


Astra Inclinant

by tinypurplefishes



Series: Laurel: A Very Long and Unusual Second Life [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family, Fluff, Gen, Hogwarts, Horcruxes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-07-19 08:20:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7353220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinypurplefishes/pseuds/tinypurplefishes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laurel Potter's adventures continue with her foray into the magical world of Hogwarts, where she is joined by her pals Fred and George, her lamentable bio-dad Snape, and her apparent adversary Albus Dumbledore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Novus

****

**

Laurel: A Very Long and Very Unusual Second Life

Part Three: Astra Inclinant [The Stars Incline Us]

Prologue: Novus [New]

**

**31 August 1989. 7:03pm**

Laurel’s hands danced across the heavy, leather-bound tomes which had spilled onto her bed. Her eyes brightened as she eased the closest one open, it being a decidedly handsome book of soft, brown pleather with tastefully yellowed parchment pages, and scanned the pages. The pages fell open to a depiction of a wizard’s transformation from man to hare, advanced transfiguration. It surprised Laurel to no end that she still maintained this absolute fascination with magic in all her years in this world. Though, she surmised that it was only natural, after coming from such a stark reality.

But there was no use dwelling. Not when she had such magic at her fingertips, she smiled widely. Laurel sat back further on her bed and settled into the covers, grabbing another book. Flipping it open, there were pages and pages of words that flowed and curved delicately, she landed on an avid description of a Bowtruckle’s emotions as seen through minutely changing facial expressions. 

“Laurel!” She was startled out of her revelry by a shout sounding quite close to her ear. Laurel snapped the book shut and looked to the side, to see her brother’s face smiling down at her. “What are you reading?” He continued with calmness contrasting with his earlier shout.

“My school books.” She relented, his nose scrunched up half-heartedly.

“Again?” Laurel laughed at his confusion.

“Yes, again.” She swiped her books off to the side and turned to face him, patting the bed beside her. He clambered up and leant back with her against the wall. “You gonna be okay without me here?” Laurel asked with some trepidation. Harry was quiet for a moment, a thoughtful expression overtaking his features.

“Yeah.” He said decidedly. “I’ll be there too in two years, anyway.” Laurel nodded to herself, smiling with relief. “What house do you think you’ll be in?” 

“Hmm…” Laurel hummed indecisively, she had given this some thought but could never make up her mind, “I have no idea.” She admitted, “I guess I’ll find out tomorrow.”

“What about me?” Harry looked at her with hopeful eyes, “What house do you think I’ll be in?” Laurel’s smile widened and her eyes softened as she looked towards her brother.

“Gryffindor.” She said with absolute certainty, “Like Mum and Dad.” 

“Really?” Harry looked unsure, Laurel laughed lightly and ruffled his hair.

“You are _such_ a Gryffindor.” Laurel said, thinking to herself that he would at least prove himself to be over the coming years. She felt saddened by her thoughts, but brightened at remembering that he wouldn’t have it quite so hard, if she had any say in it.

“I’m gonna miss you.” Harry said suddenly, a crease appearing on his forehead. Laurel sighed deeply.

“I’ll miss you too.” She pulled him towards her and squeezed him in a tight hug, tucking his wild-haired head under her chin.

“You’ll write?”

“‘Course I will.”

There was a lull in conversation, both Harry and Laurel sat in contented silence with each other on the bed. Laurel was imagining to herself just what going to Hogwarts could mean for her; certainly more freedom to try and affect some change…any change. Thus far she had remained disappointed in herself, all plans failing save the one to rescue Harry from those dreaded Dursleys.

“What’s a Nargle?” Laurel was startled by Harry’s sudden question, she looked over to see him warily holding a brightly coloured edition of _The Quibbler_. He turned it around and studied it with narrowed eyes, Laurel laughed.

“I have no idea.” She admitted, trying to remember, “I think they steal things…and are in fact non-existent? Or, at least they may be non-existent…” Laurel trailed off, before shrugging her shoulders. Harry hummed and furrowed his brow in confusion, placing the magazine off to the side.

“Oh!” Harry suddenly perked up, turning a bright smile towards Laurel, “Remus wanted to see you!” Laurel looked back at him with disbelief.

“He sent you in here?” Laurel questioned, Harry nodded succinctly in return, “Half an hour ago…and now you tell me?”

“Yes.” Harry said simply, ducking away from Laurel’s soft slap aimed at his head with a smile, picking up the _Quibbler_ once more and hiding his smile behind it. 

Laurel slid off the bed and bounded out of the room and into the lounge room. She sat heavily on the lounge opposite to Remus, who was patiently studying the _Daily Prophet_ , lit by the soft light of the lamp beside him. 

“You wished to see me…” Laurel hummed demurely. Remus folded the newspaper and held it in one hand, greeting her with his usual tired, smiling eyes.

“All set for Hogwarts?” He asked, his eyes clouded over and he looked identifiably nostalgic; Remus often remembered his days at Hogwarts as the some of the best of his life, his own first year had been almost a decade ago.

“Yep.” Laurel said shortly in an effort to her excitement. Where she had come from, it was every Muggle’s dream to go to Hogwarts. So, even with the serious threats she was facing, her excitement abounded.

“I got you a gift…for you to take to Hogwarts.” Remus stood and strode around the lounge, bending down to pick up a basket which Laurel just noticed was sitting by the door. He set it down gently on the lounge beside her and flipped the lid up. Laurel slid over and peered into it, amazed to find two blue eyes staring back.

“Rroww!” What could only be described as a whimpering howl sounded and Laurel beamed up at a despondent Remus when she realised what she had gotten.

“I thought you said no pets.” Laurel reminded him as she picked up the cat, cuddling it to her chest. She looked up at Remus as she tried to hold the squirming cat in her arms and was amused to see that he was staring at the cat with no small amount of contempt for it, apparently werewolves were not exactly fond of cats.

“I…want you to have someone with you at Hogwarts, at least until Harry gets there.” He finished quickly, Laurel laughed loudly at him.

“No way, he’s here for good.” Laurel buried her cheek in the cat’s cream-coloured fur, a grey-brown, bushy tail smacked her in the face.

“Rroww.” The cat settled on her lap, claws kneading into her pants, Laurel winced but her smile remained.

“I love him.” She said with finality, reaching up and hugging her godfather, “Thank you.” Remus hugged her back, not letting go until the cat swiped a heavy paw at his chest.

“A cat?” Harry interjected from the hall, he leaped into the room and sat on the couch, “Do I get a pet?” He wondered, but he was swiftly shut down by Remus assuring him that he would think about when Harry went off to Hogwarts too.

Laurel sat back down next to her brother and the cat leapt out of her arms, he pounced around the room and began inspecting every crevice, one blue eye trained suspiciously on Remus. She was certainly excited for Hogwarts, but it would be hard to leave her family behind for so long.


	2. Transvectiō

****

**

Laurel: A Very Long and Very Unusual Second Life

Part Three: Astra Inclinant [The Stars Incline Us]

Chapter One: Transvectiō [Crossing]

**

**1 September 1989. 10:45am**

Laurel Potter rushed along the starkly numbered platforms of King’s Cross Station, pulling her brother along with one outstretched hand. She beamed in excitement when they suddenly stopped between Platforms Nine and Ten. 

“Oh, man.” She whispered amazedly to herself, intently studying the seemingly normal barrier which she was to use to get to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Laurel glanced behind her as Remus came to a stop, halting the cart carrying her trunk with an exhausted sigh. The newly named cat Luke was grumbling lightly in his carrier atop the trunk at the sharp movement, but soon quietened once more.

Laurel shared an excited glance with Harry, “Let’s go!” She exclaimed, dragging him directly towards the barrier, Remus trying to protest behind them. With a cringe and a grin, Laurel led them both through the barrier and out the other side. She shook off the odd feeling and pulled them to the side just in time for Remus to drive the cart and himself through after them.

“Oof.” Harry grunted, sharing a wide-eyed glance with her, both shaking off the weird feeling of walking directly into an outwardly solid wall. Upon looking around, Laurel immediately spotted the giant, cherry-red and black steam engine: the _Hogwart’s Express_. She beamed at the sight of the train and went to step forward but she was stopped by a hand on her shoulder.

“Not so fast.” Remus said with an amused smile, parking the cart over near a vacant wall and turning to Laurel. She returned his smile sheepishly and he put his hands on her shoulders. “Final goodbyes, then you can go find the twins.” Laurel’s smile turned wry and somewhat sad, she launched herself forward and wrapped her arms around her godfather’s middle.

“I’m gonna miss you…let’s keep this short and sweet, so I don’t cry.” Laurel said firmly, stepping away with her smile remaining steadfast. 

“I’ll miss you too, Laur.” Remus said softly.

“And me, I’ll miss you too.” Harry interjected, attacking Laurel in another hug. Laurel staggered as she caught him and squeezed him tightly, letting go after a moment that felt too short to her. 

“I’ll see you two at Christmas. And I’ll write!” Laurel managed, looking between her two family members before promptly surging in to wrap them both in a final embrace. 

“Almost eleven!” Remus reminded them. 

Laurel broke away and turned to her cart, rolling it away swiftly. Laurel sent a quick smile behind her, catching one last look at the two before turning back and scanning her eyes over the crowd. She was looking for a collection of red hair, shouldn’t be too difficult.

“Aha!” She exclaimed, drowned out by the chattering noise of the other wizarding families around her. Laurel edged around the people in the direction of the Weasley family, one eye fixed on the tallest: Mr Weasley.

“Laurel!” Twin shouts exclaimed, she could just see Fred and George’s heads bob over to her, squashing through the fray.

“Oh! Quick, quick!” Mrs Weasley’s worried voice called after the two, Laurel was intercepted by the twins who threw an arm each around her on either side.

“You’re late, Laur!” One twin screeched in her ear.

“Oh, terribly late! Surely we’ll miss the train!” The other countered, then they both fell into laughter at Laurel’s fondly unamused stare. She soon broke into a smile and laughed with her friends.

“Laurel, dear! You’re here! Quickly, you three.” Mrs Weasley fretted over the three and ushered them towards the train, “Charlie, help Laurel with her trunk!” 

Charlie’s freckled face swam into view, he greeted Laurel happily and took her trunk from the cart, lugging it onto the train. Laurel quickly snatched Luke’s carrier and held him close to her, chuckling at the disgruntled meows that quietly accompanied his move.

“Augh! Charlie, look at this beast!” Fred exclaimed as he peered at Laurel’s cat through a gap in the wicker.

“More fearsome than any dragon, I think!” George added, Laurel pushed their heads away and boarded the train after Charlie. The twins followed her after receiving their final, unwelcome kisses and hugs from their mother, both groaning in embarrassment.

Laurel edged along the train’s corridor, glancing into each compartment as she passed them to find where Charlie had ended up. As she hurried along, she saw the assortment of students and counted herself lucky to be amongst them.

“Wotcher, Laurel!” She saw Nymphadora Tonks’ beaming face pop out of a compartment three doors along, one hand waving madly at her. Laurel beamed right back and dragged the two dawdling twins behind her forward and into the compartment. 

Charlie, with massive help from Tonks, was shoving Laurel’s trunk into the overhead storage, along with Fred’s and George’s. Laurel collapsed onto the seat with a sigh and placed Luke’s carrier beside her. 

“Thanks, you two.” She called emphatically after Charlie and Tonks, who had left for their own compartments, Charlie going to the very front to be with his fellow prefects. Fred and George both landed on the opposite seat to Laurel, quickly emptying their pockets of what Filch would likely call contraband.

“What’s all this?” Laurel asked confusedly, both their heads snapped up and they shot her identically mischievous smiles.

“Mum wouldn’t let us bring the vast majority of our belongings—”

“Most prized belongings—”

“Yes! _Most_ prized, our beloved dungbombs—”

“—murderous tea-cups—”

“—deadly sweets—”

“—fire-catching quills—”

“—spewing Frisbees—”

“—a rather offensive xylophone—”

“—cannibalistic shoes—”

“—wait, do the shoes eat toes or other shoes?” Fred wondered suddenly, George paused and looked thoughtful.

“I don’t really know...” George trailed off, “Either way, quite funny!” He cried, Fred nodded decisively in agreement.

“Evasive keys—”

“—explode-y—”

“Okay!” Laurel suddenly interjected their joint recollection of pranking products, “I get it! Pranks, your Mum doesn’t like them, didn’t want to enable you.” She smiled happily at their dynamic.

“Yes! But, we being the incredible—”

“—brilliant—”

“—and, may I say, devilishly handsome—”

“—you may!” Fred exclaimed, George collapsed into hysterics, then quickly caught his breath once again.

“Pranksters that we are...” George continued.

“We thought of a brilliant scheme to keep our pranks!” Fred finished with a beaming smile, Laurel furrowed her brow at the two.

“Hiding them in your pockets?” She wondered.

“Exactly!” They exclaimed together.

“So simple, yet so genius.” George said with false modesty, collapsing into giggles once more, which made Fred and Laurel start to giggle as well. 

They were interrupted when the train stuttered to a start and began to roll out of the station.

“Uh, oh.” The twins lamented simultaneously, turning to each other with wide, panicked eyes. They scrambled off the seat and to the window, plastering their faces against the glass and waving once they caught sight of their fuming mother and amused father. Laurel leaned over and peeked out, just managing to catch a glimpse of the couple, she did not envy the twins for how their mother was ranting to Mr Weasley, by their reactions it was about them.

“What’s that about?” She asked.

“We forgot to say bye to Mum...” Fred admitted, they both slumped back into their seats. Laurel snorted at the two of them and shook her head with incredulity. 

“Forgot the time...” George added.

“You two are hopeless.” Laurel muttered fondly, turning around to fiddle with the clasp on Luke’s carrier.

“Since when do you have a cat?” Fred asked, Laurel looked at him obviously as she opened the hatch and Luke jumped out.

“Since now...” She laughed, “Since yesterday, actually. Going away present.” 

“Ugh, we didn’t get anything!” Fred lamented, eyeing the prowling cat with both envy and trepidation at his intermittent grumbling.

“He’s supposed to be my company.” Laurel said, “You have each other for that!” She smiled expectantly, and she was not disappointed.

“Agh! Company!”

“Oh, we have _each other_ , do we?” Both twins groaned, twisting their faces in mock disgust.

“Don’t be idiots.” Laurel scolded them half-heartedly with a laugh bubbling up in her throat.

“These two, not be idiots? Impossible.” A voice intoned from the open door of their compartment. Laurel looked over to see Percy standing straight with his customarily patronizing expression overtaking his features.

“Ha, ha, Perce.” Fred said in a monotone, before scrunching up his face and ushering Percy to move on.

“You’re too mean to him.” Laurel lamented, she bent down and cuddled Luke to her chest, ruffling the fluffy curls on his belly. The twins stared at her in shock.

“What? Us be mean to him? He’s the one who called us idiots...” George exclaimed, grumbling to his brother. Laurel just laughed and nodded her head lightly in reluctant agreement.

“What’s his name, then?” Fred interjected suddenly, nodding towards her cat.

“Luke.” She said simply, they both looked confused.

“Luke? Just Luke?” Fred clarified, Laurel nodded.

“But, that’s a people name? Why not name him ‘Whiskers’ or ‘Fluffy’? You could even name him after a famous wizard, like ‘Dumbledore!’” George was equally confused.

“I am not naming my cat Dumbledore.” She said flatly before continuing, “And I’ll have you know, Luke _is_ named for a very powerful wizard!” Laurel protested in amusement.

“Oh yeah, well I’ve never heard of some wizard named ‘Luke.’”

“Oh, you’ve never heard of Luke Skywalker?” Laurel asked sarcastically, already knowing the answer. 

“No!”

“Never!” George agreed with his brother. 

Laurel fell into laughter, disturbing Luke who then returned to the floor of the compartment and continued to pace. Honestly, even her father James had been a fan. After Lily had introduced him to Star Wars, he named their first cat Han. Laurel was disappointed in her friends.

“I’ll have to show you sometime, you’ll like him!” She assured them, they still seemed dubious.

And so, after four games of Exploding Snap, two games of regular Snap, a brief interlude of a visit from Tonks and a particularly rousing recount of the entire original trilogy, the sky was beginning to turn a dusky pink and orange, and the Hogwarts Express neared Hogwarts. Laurel had gone to the bathroom and changed into her uniform; it was insane how excited she was by just wearing that famous uniform. She had just returned to their compartment when the train had creaked to a stop.

“Finally!” Fred moaned, standing up and stretching his arms above his head with a groan. Laurel put Luke back in his cage, leaving him on the seat to be brought up with the rest of the luggage.

“Oh, no! Half a day of gorging yourself on sweets and playing card games!” Laurel mocked him with a smile, and shooed the giggling twins out of the compartment and into the crowd of students exiting the train along the corridor.

“Firs’ years this way!” She could hear a booming voice shout over the chatter of the crowd, recognising it immediately as Hagrid’s.

Laurel quickly snatched Fred’s hand before he was lost in the crowd, and he in turn snatched George’s wrist. She shook her head exasperatedly at their complaining of having to hold onto each other, and pulled them both with a sharp tug in the direction of Hagrid’s voice, and the glowing yellow light from his lantern.

“Hullo there, Laurel!” She beamed up at Hagrid and gave a quick wave, “And these must be the Weasley twins.” Hagrid grinned back at them all, before quickly returning to rounding up all the straggling first years.

“This way, firs’ years!” Hagrid’s booming voice sounded even louder as he began to walk along the platform of Hogsmeade Station. The excited chatter of new students followed him, Laurel, Fred and George along with them.

They trudged off the station and up a winding pathway through a towering group of trees, their way lit only by Hagrid’s shining lantern and the dimly shining stars that intermittently poked through when the trees became sparse. After a short while walking through the disparagingly muddy path, the trees suddenly stopped and gave way to a pebbled bank, dozens of tiny wooden boats dotted the shore of the Black Lake.

Laurel’s eyes brightened at the sight of them, before her attention was sought by the towering castle across the lake. Hogwarts castle stood tall over a valley in the distance, mountains loomed behind; it was an organised and haphazard conglomeration of towers which rose high into the sky, short and long halls, dipping and rising tiled roofs. Countless tiny windows were lit with soft, warm light and Laurel’s heart warmed with her amazement that she felt for the castle alone. 

It gave anyone who looked upon it the very clear understanding that there was magic there; the castle itself, in its walls, turrets and towers, exuded magic. She suddenly understood what had been said about the castle many times before, it felt like she was coming home.


	3. Genus

****

**

Laurel: A Very Long and Very Unusual Second Life

Part Three: Astra Inclinant [The Stars Incline Us]

Chapter Two: Genus [Class]

**

**1 September 1989. 6:13pm**

Laurel stood with the other first years in a small hall awaiting their entrance to the Great Hall for their sorting. She rubbed her arms in an effort to warm them, and scuffed one shoe along the stone floor. 

“I heard you have to solve a riddle.” Laurel heard one frightened voice say behind her, she smiled despite the genuine fear clouding their tone.

“No way!” Fred exclaimed from beside her, she winced at the loudness of his voice being quite close to her ear.

“I heard we have to fight a banshee.” George added.

“No, a troll.” Fred said matter-of-factly, poking one finger into his brother’s shoulder.

“Stop scaring the Muggleborns, you guys.” Laurel said reluctantly, before turning to face the rest of the group, “Everyone’s sorted into houses by a hat that can read your mind.” She informed them, voice faltering as she realised how that sounded by her explanation. The dozens of scared faces turned either disbelieving or even more terrified.

“Psh, yeah right!” One boy scoffed, shaking his head.

“But...how does it read your mind?” A rather short girl asked, wide eyes overtaking her scared, pale face.

“Magic...” Laurel said eventually, trailing off with a shrug of her shoulders. Before the girl could ask any further questions, they were interrupted by a heavy click as the door behind them swung open. A tall, severe-looking woman entered. The woman was dressed in emerald green robes and a pointed hat sat tilted on her head, her black hair was pulled tightly back into a bun: Professor McGonagall had returned. She opened her mouth to speak but was promptly interrupted.

“Hello!” One of the twins exclaimed happily, Laurel glanced to the side and looked disbelievingly at both, unable to determine who she had heard. McGonagall glanced up over the piece of parchment in her hands that she was reading, mouth pursed in a thin line, eyes narrowed at the twins.

“You must be the Weasley twins...” She said shortly, and then continued in a lower mutter to herself, “We’ve all been warned about you two.” Laurel could see that the twins had heard this and were now beaming with unrestrained pride at their infamy.

“If you will form an orderly line, and follow me.” McGonagall said, all of the First Years scrambled to acquiesce, none of them eager to be on the receiving end of her wrath. 

Laurel lined up behind Fred and George, who were surprisingly compliant in following McGonagall’s instruction. McGonagall led them out of the small chamber, across the Entrance Hall and through the towering set of double doors leading to the Great Hall.

Each of the First Years’ faces lit up in wonder at the sight before them: hundreds upon hundreds of candles floated in the air above the heads of countless students, lighting the hall with a yellow glow, further above them was the famed enchanted ceiling with millions of twinkling stars covering every inch, mimicking the night sky outside.

Laurel’s gaze drifted steadily down, wandering over the students who sat at the four long tables, the First years marched between the middle two until they reached the front of the Hall. Her eyes rested on the front table of the Great Hall where a dozen or so teachers were seated along the back of the table, each focused on the line of First years that steadily fell into a group before them.

In front of them, Professor McGonagall placed a rickety, four-legged stool on the platform before the high table, then placed the raggedy Sorting Hat precariously on the stool. The Sorting Hat’s pointed tip wriggled then crooked to the side as a rip in its front widened into a grin, two creases above its mouth blinked open to reveal themselves as eyes.

The Hall was silent, save for a few scattered awkward coughs and sniffles, as everyone in attendance, including Laurel, stared at the frayed, dirty Hat on the stool. The Hat’s grin widened further and it began to sing:

_“Many years have swiftly passed by_  
Since I was a young listless hat,  
I look back on them with a sigh,  
And decide to tell you all flat.  
I was made for this here purpose  
By four young, hopeless magicals,  
Not just one was a vexed serpent,  
Their unity was frankly a miracle.  
That four so different people  
Could collaborate so fully,  
Was a feat with no sure equal,  
But we can beat that, surely!  
We must gather the Gryffindors  
With their bravery and daring,  
And hearts so delightfully pure  
Look at them there, just raring!  
We must gather the Hufflepuffs  
With their patience and loyalty,  
There are none more worthy of trust  
They sit ready to pledge their fealty!  
We must gather the Ravenclaws  
With their intelligence and wit,  
Will rally behind your good cause  
None better you'll find to commit!  
We must gather the Slytherins  
With their cunning and ambition,  
No others will secure your wins  
A certainly worthy addition!  
The Lions and Badgers we tether  
To the Eagles and Serpents!  
With our houses all together,  
We'll not be beaten, it's certain.  
So step up wizards and witches,  
And we'll have a good, long chat.  
I'll put you all where you most belong,  
Then that'll be all from this old hat.” 

Laurel smiled wide, her hands automatically came together along with the others that were around her, and her ears were ringing at the applause which echoed through the hall as everyone within applauded the Hat’s song. Despite how cheesy the song may sound when it’s read, there was something heartening about hearing a sentient hat sing an ode for its school.

The Hat’s grin softened and it bowed its pointed tip to each of the four Houses at their tables, then finished with a deep bow towards the First years in the front, finally stilling once more. Around her, Laurel could hear a majority of her future classmates sigh in relief as they realised that she had been telling the truth, they just had to try on the hat.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward, her roll of parchment held high in front of her chest, eyes peering through her glasses at the paper.

“Come forward to be sorted when I call your name.” She said, shortly glancing up at their eager faces then back down at the parchment.

“Adams, Stanley.” McGonagall called firstly, a small, chubby boy toddled to the stage to be sorted. 

Laurel’s attention drifted as Adams, Stanley was sorted to Hufflepuff, and she began to wonder what House she would be sorted to. She knew well and good that each House had its merits, even Slytherin. Though, she supposed that the amount of murderous children that would soon be, or already had been, sorted to the House, it didn’t exactly sound like a relaxing, welcoming atmosphere. So, no go on Slytherin. 

She pondered Ravenclaw; but then remembered that one had to be tremendously intelligent in some way or another to make it in the House. Though Laurel wasn’t exactly stupid, she would likely not quite fit in with the Ravenclaws. Her mind drifted to Gryffindor, and she internally grimaced; bravery? Laurel didn’t think that applied to her, exactly. The only remaining House is Hufflepuff, and Laurel had always respected the ‘Puffs, being admirable in their loyalty and trustworthiness.

Honestly, Laurel had no idea what House she would be sorted into. Though, she supposed she could take a leaf out of Harry’s book and ask to be placed in the House of her choosing. From a strategic standpoint, Gryffindor House was where all the action occurred. Laurel tilted her head in consideration, twisting her mouth in a concentrated grimace.

“Potter, Laurel.” Luckily, she had turned her attention back to McGonagall just as her name was called. Laurel startled and quickly edged forward in between the remaining First years, she could hear Fred and George whispering encouragements behind her. She stepped up the few steps and sat on the stool, McGonagall lowered the Sorting Hat onto her head, the last thing she saw was the crowd of students whispering furtively amongst themselves, undoubtedly about her famous little brother.

“Oh, very interesting,” The Sorting Hat’s interested voice drifted around her mind, she shivered at the feeling of its quiet, trickling voice, its voice lowered even further, “You’re not from here, are you?” It chuckled throatily as Laurel’s eyes widened in panic.

“Now, now,” Its voice soothed, “I won’t tell.” Another hoarse chuckle. “I can see you’ve thought about your Sorting?” The Hat said in a questioning tone. Laurel nodded her head slightly downwards, it hummed in response. 

“Sound reasoning,” The Sorting Hat complimented, “I’ve never been one to stand in the way of a determined student,” Its voice grew louder and it shouted, “Gryffindor, it is!”

The long table to her right erupted in applause for her, she beamed at her fellow Gryffindors once the Hat had been lifted from her head. She slid off the stool and slinked over to the table, shooting a pleased glance at the twins who had yet to be sorted. Laurel was greeted by the Gryffindors with open arms, she squeezed into a seat near the end, a few of the older students welcoming her to their House.

After a few more minutes of other First years being sorted, McGonagall called, “Weasley, Fred.” Laurel craned her head to see Fred clamber up the steps and onto the stool, then the Sorting Hat fell over his eyes. It was quiet for a moment, Fred’s shoulders began to shake in a quiet chuckle. 

Before Laurel had time to be confused, the Hat proclaimed, “Gryffindor!” Fred took off the Hat and stepped off the stool, he walked swiftly to the table, sitting beside Laurel.

“Congrats, Fred.” She said, raising her voice to be heard over the dull roar surrounding them, he just snorted in response.

“I'm George,” He admitted with a sheepish grin, “Ol’ Sorty’s a sly one...he knew right away!” George turned and shot his brother a thumbs down as he was called to be sorted. As Fred sat on the stool his nose crinkled and his shoulders drooped in disappointment. Laurel looked between the two with incredulity.

“It uses legilimency, George.” Laurel flicked him in the neck lightly, making him cringe away, “How did you not realise it would read your mind and figure it out?” She dissolved into laughter along with him, then turned to cheer as the actual Fred was similarly sorted into Gryffindor.

Fred bounded over to the table with a sly, beaming smile overtaking his face, he crashed into George and sat beside his brother, causing a rather unlucky First year to go crashing into the boy beside her.

“He said it was a good prank!” Fred bragged, George beamed back, but before he could say anything a throat was cleared from the front of the Hall. Every head in the Hall simultaneously turned to the front, and all the students quietened down once they saw Dumbledore standing patiently and waiting for their attention.

“If I could have your attention for a moment.” He started loudly, “I would like to welcome our First years,” Dumbledore smiled at the ends of each of the four tables where they were mostly seated, “not to forget each and every returning student, to a new year at Hogwarts.” His arms swept out to gesture to the entire hall, remaining outstretched as if he wished to embrace the hundreds of students seated there.

“And, without further ado, the real reason we have come here on this joyous night!” Dumbledore’s hands flourished and the tables before him suddenly held hundreds upon hundreds of silver platters heavily laden with food. 

The chattering filled the Hall once more as Dumbledore took his seat, the students quickly began scrambling to fill their plates. Laurel stared down at the food before her; she could see immediately before her no less than ten whole turkeys, six plates of roasted potatoes, a rather delicate tower of meat pies, several pots of different warmly coloured curries, what looked like a lonesome game hen, some smaller plates of golden chicken nuggets and a plate piled high with roasted sweet potatoes. Glancing further up the table she saw even more food.

“Whoa, I am in Heaven.” Laurel said with certainty, whether or not she actually believed in an afterlife was not at the forefront of her mind when faced with this veritable banquet.


	4. Peculium

****

**

Laurel: A Very Long and Very Unusual Second Life

Part Three: Astra Inclinant [The Stars Incline Us]

Chapter Three: Peculium [Peculiar]

**

**3 September 1989. 10:24am**

Laurel quickly ducked behind the remnants of a crumbling pillar as she saw a red-haired head round the corner. She leant against the rocky side of a nearby wall and sunk down to sit on her backside, puffing lightly as she caught her breath. It was their second full day at Hogwarts, and it just so happened to be a Sunday. With their being no actual learning yet, Fred and George had taken advantage of the situation and persuaded the entirety of the Second and Third years, as well as a considerable portion of the remaining students, to participate in a school-wide game of hide-and-go-seek tag.

She glanced up to see an older student barrel-roll across the court yard, and let loose a snort. Immediately, the student caught her gaze and both of their eyes widened. Laurel immediately stood in a crouch and retreated from her vulnerable position, dashing for a nearby hall. She collided with a doorway and clung to it, the older student beside her.

“Think they heard?” He asked quietly out of the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah, I think they did.” Laurel and the boy whipped their heads around to see the twins standing a few feet behind them, both with identically gleeful smiles stretching wide across their faces.

“Uh, oh.” Laurel muttered, then quickly ran down the hall away from them, feeling slightly ashamed at the other student’s cry of disappointment as he was eliminated from the game. She whipped her head around to look behind her, and squeaked when she saw that one of the twins was gaining on her. “C’mon, you’d tag your own friend?” Laurel cried out.

“You bet I would!” He shouted merrily, promptly reaching out and tapping her shoulder.

“Augh.” Laurel came to a sudden stop, the twin crashed into her.

“Blech!” He exclaimed as they both fell to the ground.

“Whoa, dangerous sports...don’t like ‘em.” Laurel mumbled to herself as she got to her feet, sweeping the dust off of her knees. 

“Oi, Fred, you get her?” George called down the hall, Fred shot him a double thumbs up as he stood.

**4 September 1989. 9:14am**

It was the first day of classes, and the twins had already caused Laurel to be over twenty minutes late for their first class. As Laurel ran along the corridor she tried to scrub the bright blue glitter out of her hair, not one sparkle budged.

“Miss Potter?” Laurel startled, slamming into a suit of armour as she rounded a corner. She tumbled to the ground with a shout. _This is the second time in two days...Hogwarts is not good for my health_ , she thought grumpily, cringing at the continued clashing of the armour as it smashed into the ground beside her. Laurel looked up guiltily.

“Professor McGonagall?” She winced, gripping her hair tightly in nervous fingers, continuing to try and fruitlessly scrub it clean.

“What on Earth...happened to you—?”

“Fred and George.” She said shortly, jumping up and looking around at the armour strewn along the corridor, before deciding it was beyond her help. “I have to get to class.” 

“Transfiguration?” Professor McGonagall asked, raising one unimpressed brow, Laurel smiled sheepishly and nodded. McGonagall sighed, “Come along, then.” Laurel perked up and jumped over a rusted helmet, following McGonagall down the corridor. 

“Oi, pick me up!” Laurel heard the helmet yell after them, but she paid the ghost-helmet no mind, making it shout some rather explicit curses in her direction. They walked briskly through the deserted halls, Laurel hopping every now and then when she falls behind due to her shorter legs; with each hop a flurry of glitter falls from her hair and dusts over the stone floors.

“Here we are.” McGonagall stopped in front of a pair of open doors, gesturing her in with an outstretched arm. Laurel smiled at her sheepishly and entered, spotting Fred and George’s red haired heads ducked together in the second to last row of tables. She narrowed her eyes on them and swiftly moved through the tables to sit beside them.

“You two are dead.” Laurel muttered out of the corner of her mouth, both of their heads swivelled to look at her, and they simultaneously broke into fits of giggles at the sight of her black hair covered in purple sparkles; a tame prank for them, but ultimately classic.

**4 September 1989. 1:06pm**

With amends having been made during lunch between her and the twins for their prank, Laurel was sitting contentedly beside them in their final class for the day. Or, she would have been sitting contentedly had the class not been Potions. Laurel had been dreading this class, trying her very best to put it to the back of her mind, but here she now sat in the dreary dungeons, shivering from the cold, as well as from the gory potion ingredients strewn about the room. A particularly gruesome, tiny being curled up in a jar caught her eye, and a shudder overtook her body.

Aside from the reprehensible classroom state, Laurel was primarily dreading seeing Snape: the Potions teacher and, regrettably, her biological father. Though, at least, Laurel was quite sure he had no idea. She sighed, scrubbing her eyes as she suddenly felt very tired. 

“Alright?” Fred asked from beside her, Laurel glanced at him to see him, and George in the next seat over, looking at her with concern. 

Before she could nod in assent, the classroom door opened and the great bat himself entered. For a moment, Laurel imagined Batman entering the class, but reluctantly admitted to herself that it was the other one.

“Books out!” Snape’s sharp voice broke the silence, he strode towards the front of the classroom, with a sharp wave of his wand white writing flickered into existence onto the blackboard. He turned with a flourish of his robes, and glanced around at the dozens of tiny, apprehensive faces looking back at him.

“Turn to page 17, today you’ll be brewing a swelling solution...better to weed out the weak as soon as possible.” Snape glared around at them, “Well?” He finished sharply, the students collectively opened their books and got to work. 

Laurel examined the list of ingredients in the book, then collated with the board. Her partner, a Hufflepuff named Michael, went to the stores at her direction to fetch the ingredients, many other students did the same. Laurel took this time of silent sitting to surreptitiously examine Snape; he had been unbelievably short with them, especially for it being their very first Potions lesson. If she remembered correctly, even in Harry’s first year there had been an introductory speech intended to frighten them.

Snape seemed weary, and entirely unlike what she had determined to be his usually self. His skin seemed sallower and the shadows under his eyes darker since the Welcoming Feast three days before. As she was staring, perhaps a bit too obviously than she should have, Snape suddenly glanced up and caught her eye. Before she hurriedly looked away, Laurel could have sworn that he’d turned paler.

_Something’s going on_ , Laurel decided with certainty, _maybe he does know_. Laurel certainly hoped he didn’t, but she couldn’t be sure. Michael returned just then, interrupting her thoughts. Laurel immediately put any thoughts of secret plots out of her mind and set about scooping the prescribed amount of dried nettles.

After an entire lesson’s worth of brewing, it was safe to say that every student had failed. The best potion, one brewed by Alicia Spinnet and Cedric Diggory, was only a passable attempt. Rather than scold the entire class or even force a student to test their solution, as Laurel had expected, Snape simply bid them all to clean their cauldrons then leave. 

As Laurel packed away her cauldron with no complaint, unlike Fred and George at the next table over, she took some time to examine Snape once more. He was sitting at his desk, greasy hair covering his face as he bent his head down to study the parchment he was furiously writing on. Despite her deeply ingrained instinct to despise this man who had caused her mother such pain, she felt concerned. Not exactly for the man himself, but for what his concerning actions meant for her, and for her family. Laurel knew that she must be the cause, it was too much of a coincidence that his uneasiness began days after her arrival here. 

“Oi, Potter!” Fred barked out from where he lounged against the doorway, Laurel snapped to attention and bundled up her belongings. She looked around the empty classroom and a coldness overtook her. Laurel’s gaze connected with Snape’s for a final time, and then dropped to the ground as she followed Fred and George out of the class.

**12 October 1989. 3:46pm**

It had been an entire month, and Laurel was still amazed by magic. She was beginning to feel annoyed at herself, for all her gushing over _transfigurations_ and _actual-real-live unicorns_ and whatnot. But, Laurel could understand why she continued to feel that way; it wasn’t often that a person was able to have their dreams realised before their eyes.

Laurel smiled, wiggling her toes at the roaring fire as she sat in one of the cushiest armchairs she had ever had the privilege to sit in; she was sure that the Gryffindor common room was a contestant for the most-heavenly place in existence, if such a competition existed. For a second, she contemplated giving her common room proper recognition, but then figured that, as an inanimate room, it would not care if she appreciated it in silence.

“Oi, Laurel!” A shout suddenly came from across the room, Laurel turned at the sound of her name, kneeling to see over the back of the armchair. Fred, George, and their new addition Lee Jordan, sat on the opposite end of the common room, crowded by a table in the corner. Fred frantically waved her over, Laurel abided by his wishes with a suspicious narrowing of her eyes.

“Yes?” She asked, slowly drawing out the word.

“D’you know anything about pixies?” Her three friends looked up at her with wide eyes, she flashed them a quick smile.

“No, but the _library_ might.” As she expected, they all cringed and looked at her in horror, each being entirely opposed to any form of schoolwork. 

“No!” Fred shouted.

“What’s wrong with you?” George added worriedly, standing to place the back of his hand against her forehead, “Are you sick?” Laurel slapped away his hand and looked between them with a dawning sense of realisation.

“You want me to go to the library...do your dirty work for you.” She surmised, they each became happy once more, bright smiles overtaking their faces.

“Wow, Laur. That’s so thoughtful of you!” Lee smiled cheekily up at her, Laurel snorted in response.

“Fine! I need to go to the library anyway...” She sighed, moving away towards the staircase to the girls’ dormitory.  
“Thank you.” The twins sang after her.

Laurel retrieved her backpack, filled with a devastating amount of unfinished homework, and exited the tower, accidentally leaving the Fat Lady swinging wide open. “Oi!” Laurel startled at the surprisingly loud protest, before speedily retreating to close the portrait, leaving before the Fat Lady had a chance to chide her on the proper maintenance of secret doorways. She hurried down the halls and down the twisting staircases, soon arriving at the library.

“Shh!” Laurel was immediately greeted with a shush by the librarian, Madam Pince. She raised her hackles, but thought it not prudent to argue about what exactly constitutes an undesirable amount of noise with the faculty. _Certainly not simply walking into the library_ , she thought with a pout.

With a worrying thud, Laurel dropped her backpack onto the table, earning another angry shush, and began to walk through the many aisles of tall bookshelves. _Man_ , she thought, _if I was prone to fainting from happiness, I’d hope that the library’s floor was lined with pillows_ , Laurel smiled as she dusted her fingers over the spines of the countless books.


	5. Conventus

****

**

Laurel: A Very Long and Very Unusual Second Life

Part Three: Astra Inclinant [The Stars Incline Us]

Chapter Four: Conventus [Convened]

**

**4 November 1989. 8:01am**

Laurel absent-mindedly scooped up a spoonful of cereal as she studied the heavy tome before her: Todd Lincoln’s _Sentient Plants and How to Enslave Them_. The book was quite informative, if a bit morally unsound, and Laurel was enjoying her time scanning the pages for the answer to her essay on the many household uses for Devil’s Snare, not that Laurel could find any.

“Laurel, this is a place of happiness, how dare you bring such sacrilege to the table?” Fred groaned from where he sat beside her, Laurel paid him no mind, “Oh, no...what if I were to—” Laurel abruptly slapped the hand holding the jam dish precariously close to the book away, relieved to see that the pages had not been stained.

“Okay, I see your point.” Laurel shot him a smile and closed the book with a loud thud, placing it safely on the seat beside her.

“Yes!” Fred pumped a victorious fist into the air, then shared a round of high-fives with George and Lee, who both shared his view on studying at mealtimes—or at all. Laurel chuckled with affection for them, adding her own high-fives when prompted, and returned her focus to her meal.

Attending Hogwarts was an excellent exercise in restraint; Laurel could absolutely indulge in the platters upon platters of waffles, pancakes, muffins and doughnuts, but she didn’t. With a wistful stare over to one such platter, she swallowed another scoop of her cereal, suddenly reminded of its comparison to pencil shavings. Laurel looked down at the cereal, pushing around one of the mushy ‘O’s with her spoon—she wouldn’t be surprised if that statement rang true.

“What do we have up first?” George asked the table, swivelling his head to look at his fellow Gryffindor first years.

“History of Magic.” Laurel replied diligently, not bothering to be disappointed in George, and likely Fred and Lee as well, for his continued ignorance towards their shared timetable.

“Ugh,” Fred groaned along with the rest of the table, “At least it’s Friday.” He smiled around hopefully, not getting a particularly enthusiastic response.

“Excuse me, are you Laurel Potter?” A wide-eyed third-year Hufflepuff suddenly appeared across the table from Laurel, who looked up and nodded sleepily, “I was asked to bring you this.” The girl handed her a sealed letter and swept off without another word, Laurel blinked at the letter in her hands and brought it closer to study—there was no writing on the outside.

With a shrug, Laurel ripped open the scarlet wax seal and unfolded the letter. A singular line of green, flowing writing proclaimed:

“Miss Potter, I would request a meeting after your last class for the day in the Headmaster’s office.”

It was signed diligently, “Albus Dumbledore.” Laurel folded the letter back in on itself and glanced up at the head table where a few of the professors, including Dumbledore, were gathered. Dumbledore did not look up, too preoccupied with his stack of whipped-cream covered waffles to sense her gaze. Laurel’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but she decided to reserve judgement until the actual meeting, so she slipped the letter into her robe pocket.

“What is it?” Lee interjected around a mouthful of toast, Laurel stared blankly at him in disgust at the glimpse of chewed food he had shown her.

“Nothing.” She smiled, deciding that boys of eleven were inclined to be gross—not much could be done for them.

**4 November 1989. 5:13pm**

After her classes for the day—an hour after, actually, as she had decided that Dumbledore could wait until she had nipped into the Great Hall for a quick bite—Laurel arrived at the bottom of the staircases to the Headmaster’s office. However, upon realising that she had not been given a password for the grimacing gargoyle before her, Laurel stopped dead in her tracks.

“Oh, shoot.” Laurel approached the gargoyle with trepidation, “Uh, hello...Mr. Gargoyle?” Its cold, stone eyes remained fixated on some point far above her head—though, she could swear that his pupils had rolled up fractionally. “Password...” She mumbled to herself, then decided to guess; Dumbledore’s passwords had always centred around one theme.

“Fizzing whizzbees...liquorice wand...fudge flies...sugar quill...chocoballs...treacle tart...” Laurel groaned, staring pleadingly up at the gargoyle, “I don’t know every sweet in existence, you...stone—”

There was a smooth scraping noise as the gargoyle retreated and a spiralling staircase began to emerge. Laurel’s eyes widened and she stepped forward, glancing up to see Dumbledore standing inside of his open office door.

“Hmm.” She mumbled non-committedly, stepping onto the still-rotating staircase and traversing the steps until she reached the top. Laurel stopped with a stutter, and entered into the Headmaster’s office with a sigh, “You didn’t tell me the password.” She noted lightly, trying to decide for herself whether that was a mischievous or unintentional act on Dumbledore’s part.

“I apologise.” A smile flickered through his serious expression as he sat heavily into the high-backed chair behind his desk. “I do hope you weren’t left guessing for too long.”

“No, it’s fine.” She conceded, moving across the room and sitting in one of the two chairs opposite his desk, her attention soon caught by a tiny, metal figurine of what she surmised was a thestral. It jumped up and its hooves hit the wooden desk with four tiny, successive clinks, a bony tail whipped around and knocked over a mug filled with quills. Laurel swiftly caught the mug before it shattered, a smile overtaking her face, she looked back at Dumbledore seriously, “Why’ve you called me here?”

“Ah.” Dumbledore said shortly, head bowing fractionally, “I’m afraid you’ll not be too impressed with me.” Laurel narrowed her eyes and silently urged him to continue. “I do not know how much you are aware of, but your father—” Laurel cut him off with a daring swipe of her hand to raise it between them.

“This isn’t going where I think it is, is it?” She grimaced, looking up at Dumbledore’s face told her that it most certainly was, “My father was not my father?” Laurel guessed, Dumbledore’s eyes flashed with pain, Laurel huffed at the sight of it. She sat back in her chair, one reluctant hand slid across the table for the tiny thestral to clamber on.

“Quite.” Dumbledore looked at her over his glasses.

“Snape was acting off in our first class with him.” Laurel said flatly, “You told him, didn’t you.”

“Ah, so you know it’s—”

“Yes! I know it’s Snape, _did you tell him_?”

“Miss Potter, I will remind you that I am your headmaster here at Hogwarts.” Dumbledore pursed his lips, Laurel relented, bringing her hands which were cupped around the thestral figurine to her chest, one finger lightly stroking the bony spine of it.

“Sorry, sir.” Laurel grimaced, small enough that Dumbledore did not see—or at least chose not to see. “Did you, though?” She looked up at him with wide, sad eyes.

“I thought that he deserved to know.”

“Deserved to know?! He _hurt_ my mother, took advantage of her!” Laurel replied incredulously, words souring in her mouth.

“I would ask that you reserve your judgement—” Dumbledore cut himself off at her panicked gaze, “Severus Snape was...a troubled man, in his youth...” _Oh, just in his youth, sure_ , Laurel thought derisively to herself, “And, indeed, troubled to this day. Though not—” Dumbledore sighed tiredly, slumping in his chair in much the same way that she was in hers.

“I remember, when I was little my Mum told my Dad what happened, she cried.” Laurel said, brow furrowed and voice wavering.

“The War...it was a different time.” Dumbledore smiled weakly, Laurel scoffed lightly to herself, one hand scrubbing at her face, which she was disappointed to note was a little wet with tears. “Perhaps you could help Severus.” Dumbledore finished, Laurel looked at him through narrowed eyes.

“Help him?” She smiled in disbelief, thinking it almost impossible for that man to want or require anything from her, or anyone at all.

“Yes, help him...and he could help you in return.” Dumbledore stared pleadingly at her, sitting straight in his chair, “All I ask for is a chance, for the both of you.”

Laurel glanced down, eyes catching on the tiny thestral, who had knelt down and was snuggling its small, metal head on the nail of her curled-in thumb, leathery wings curling around its chest. She sighed, “Fine. But he can come to me.” Laurel rolled her eyes heavenward, quite sure that he would never do so.

“Thank you, Miss Potter.” Dumbledore sighed in relief, Laurel stood from her chair. 

“Was that all you required, Sir.” At his nod, Laurel began to head across the room, but she stopped and turned back, “Can...I keep him.” Her eyes widened in genuine vulnerability, fingers stroking against the thestral figurine’s rippled back.

Dumbledore’s eyes softened, “Of course, I’ve been looking for a good home for him.” Laurel quirked a smile at Dumbledore, and left while they were on good terms, bounding down the spiral staircase, past the suddenly appearing man in question—Severus Snape—and towards Gryffindor Tower.

**4 November 1989. 9:02pm**

Laurel sat on her bed with a sigh, bouncing lightly in place. Her fingers uncurled and the tiny silver thestral leapt off her palm and onto the sheets, bounding up and down her bed in uneven circles. At the sound of a rumbling growl, Laurel glanced towards the end of the bed to see her cat Luke sitting angrily on his haunches, bushy brown tail snapping back and forth.

“We’ve got a new member in our family, Lukey.” She smiled at him, reaching over to stroke one hand down his milky white fur, Luke purred for a moment then resumed his quiet growl. The thestral stopped in front of the cat, wings outstretched as it bent its front knees. It promptly charged at Luke, but was stopped with a heavy paw on its chest. “Luke, don’t you—”

Laurel cut herself off and smiled at the pair—Luke had removed his paw and let the thestral resume his bouncing around the bed, “What should we call it, then?” She pulled her legs up onto the bed and shuffled the covers around so they cuddled her tightly. Luke blinked at her with icy blue eyes, then tilted his head down at the figurine that was shivering in excitement. He bent his head down and licked the thestral once on its tiny face, the thestral shaking its head in disgust then bouncing forward to nuzzle at Luke’s front leg. 

As Luke huddled down, the thestral sat with him and snuggled in under his chin—Laurel suddenly brightened with realisation, “It’s gotta be Leia!” She smiled down at the two, scratching Luke with her foot from under the covers. The tiny thestral perked up and looked at Laurel, her wings beat twice in excitement then she settled once more, head resting on her front hooves which clicked together with a metallic thump. 

“Yep, definitely Leia.” Laurel lay her head down, smiling softly as she drifted to sleep.

**4 November 1989. 9:07pm**

Elsewhere, Severus Snape sat alone in his quarters, toying with a crystal glass between shaking fingers. He had shortly returned from a meeting with Dumbledore—who was so kind to inform him that the girl knew of his connection to her. Snape’s jaw clenched as he downed the last sip of whiskey that lingered in his glass, setting it on the table beside him with a glare.

He would never have known about the girl, had Dumbledore not told him the night she began her first year. Snape couldn’t help but think he’d rather have not known, rather not think about that night with Lily. He gulped nervously, tapping his fingers against the leather arm of his chair. He would never have known. _Laurel_ , he thought of her name dryly. She didn’t much look like her mother—save her eyes. Not the colour—her eyes were dark, like his own, he supposed. Her almond-shaped eyes were Lily’s, and her nose— _thankfully_ , he smirked bitterly to himself. Laurel’s hair was a dark, jet black, but it would be easy to guess that she had inherited Potter’s...

Snape’s gaze flickered over to the mantle above his empty fireplace, a small, square photograph leaned against the wall, no frame around it. He could see the smiling, blushing face of Lily within, her image’s smile widened at whomever was taking the photograph—not Severus. Snape sat there for what felt like an age, staring at the pale imitation of Lily in his picture and trying not to think of the girl in Gryffindor tower who they had created.


	6. Cidaris

****

**

Laurel: A Very Long and Very Unusual Second Life

Part Three: Astra Inclinant [The Stars Incline Us]

Chapter Five: Cidaris [Diadem]

**

**5 February 1991. 11:38pm**

Laurel swiftly ran between two columns, ducking behind the last with a cursory glance at Filch. The caretaker was grumbling, greasy hair swinging ominously in the low yellow glow of his lantern. Laurel knelt down on the stone floor, wincing silently as her knees scraped unforgivingly against the harsh surface through her flannel pyjama pants. 

“I know you’re here, _nasty children_.” Filch grumbled, muttering the curse under his breath. Laurel rolled her eyes at the frankly stereotypically villainous swear. She shuffled along the low half-wall, crawling along until she exited the dully lit courtyard and entered the nearby hall. Glancing back one last time to check that Filch was out of sight, she got to her feet and sprinted as silently as she could to the adjoining hall. A light padding sound accompanied her, Laurel smiled down at Luke who was bounding to a stop beside her. 

Throughout her two years at Hogwarts, Luke had been a constant and much-loved companion to her; he was a surprisingly good sleuth, even with the tiny, metallic thestral figurine Leia snuggled into the back of his collar.

“Oi, come out!” Filch’s voice grew fainter and fainter as she walked at a comparatively leisurely pace to the nearest stairwell, she and Luke padded up seven flights of stairs back towards Gryffindor tower. After a quick foray to the kitchens, her pockets were bursting with lovingly made treats, enough to fulfil her hunger needs for her real mission.

Laurel bypassed the Fat Lady’s portrait and journeyed along the twisting corridors, scanning the walls around her with diligent eyes, wand brightly lit with a handy ‘Lumos!’ After what Laurel approximated to be half an hour, she huffed to a stop and crouched down in a tidy alcove, digging her hand into the pocket of her jumper. 

“Here you go.” She whispered to Luke, placing a tiny cat-friendly biscuit on the floor in front of him, he licked it up with a loud, rumbling purr. Laurel smiled at him around her own mouthful of a pumpkin pasty made by the kitchen House Elves. While she wasn’t a proponent of slavery, she just wasn’t sure what to think of them. On one hand, they liked to serve wizards and witches, and on the other, Stockholm syndrome was a thing. _After hundreds of years of enslavement, one’s judgement was likely to be skewed_ , she grimaced around her suddenly spoiled treat.

Grimace remaining, she shoved the pasty back into her pocket, crumbs flaking off everywhere. Luke daintily licked up a few pasty flakes, then trotted away from Laurel, his bushy brown tail flicking haphazardly in the air. Laurel stared after him feeling dejected, but soon perked up as she directed her wand’s light after him. He had settled down on his haunches in front of a rather lovely tapestry depicting a wizard teaching a line of trolls to pirouette, their arms were raised above their heads to reveal their evidently odorous and hairy armpits. Laurel recognised the wizard as Barnabus the Barmy, his face was screwed up at the smell of the trolls in front of him, each of whom he was teaching ballet to.

With a wide smile, Laurel twirled around to stare at the blank wall opposite the tapestry. Despite knowing its hidden secrets, she could not help but be disappointed at its apparent plainness. Laurel shook her head of the thought and concentrated. _I...need to find something hidden_. She nodded her head firmly, having found the phrase she thought most appropriate. 

Laurel stepped back from the wall, and began to walk down the corridor. She turned back and passed the wall. Laurel repeated this a total of three times, repeating the chosen phrase in her head with her eyes screwed tightly shut on the last few steps. A low rumbling filled the air and she opened her eyes, sharply looking at the wall.

Where the wall had once been blank, an ornate door of twisting, dark metal. She stepped forward with a gasp, hand landing on the nearest twining of metal, it was solid beneath her fingers. Hand scraping against the rusted metal, she reached for the door handle and pulled it down sharply. The door opened with a low groan, she peeked around into the room. Luke darted in quickly, Laurel soon followed him.

“Holy...” Laurel’s voice echoed lightly in the room as she tilted her head back, taking in the contents of the room. _The Room of Requirement_ , she let loose an excited giggle, _specifically, the Room of Hidden Things_.

Within the room was stacks upon stacks of lost and decrepit belongings. Towers of broken chairs and cabinets gave way to mountains and piles of yellowing books, Laurel immediately spotted a rusted red sword, a lonely banjo and the torn portrait of a swaying horse. She squeaked in awe as her gaze drifted between the ramshackle collections of junk. Suddenly, her awe-filled smile dropped and she furrowed her brow, _how exactly am I supposed to find it in all this mess?_

Laurel groaned lightly, sitting heavily into a nearby dusty armchair, leaning her chin on her clenched fist. Luke pounced around in a nearby pile of eggshells, and Laurel thought on her options. She had attended Hogwarts for almost two years, and she was nearing thirteen. Throwing away her trepidation, Laurel had decided to wholeheartedly begin her quest for a happier world. Beginning with the most available of her tasks, she decided to search for Ravenclaw’s lost diadem—one of the tools that would lead to Voldemort’s eventual dissolution. Of course, she knew where the diadem was—the Room of Requirement—but did not know exactly where in this great big, messy room it was hidden.

There was a crash and Laurel cringed, she looked over to see Luke sitting guiltily, a pile of scratched shields lying on the floor beside him—one of the shields was on its side and rolling lazily down a path clear of objects.

“Luke, c’mon.” She called him over, patting the armchair and coughing when a gust of dust billowed from the fabric. Luke meowed sounding annoyed, but trotted towards her all the same. He jumped up onto the arm and sat, tail hitting her arm rhythmically as it swished through the air. Laurel leant her chin on her hand once more, startling as a tiny metal hoof nudged her forearm; she uncurled her other hand and let Leia clamber on. 

Laurel sighed and looked between her two companions, Leia was wiggling her leathery wings and thin tail with excitement, “What the heck am I gonna do?”

**6 February 1991. 8:42am**

A scream echoed through the room, Laurel stared wide-eyed trying to find the source— _oh, that was me_. Laurel glared up at her dorm-mate Angelina Johnson, who was covering her mouth and giggling, eyes almost closed with mirth.

“What the hell, _Angelina_?” Laurel hissed, shivering from the ice cold water Angelina had apparently poured on her while she slept, if the empty bucket in her hands was any indication.

“Fred and George made me do it!” Angelina dropped her hand and looked indignant, Laurel almost felt empathy for her until the illusion was ruined by Angelina’s snort.

Laurel kicked her wet duvet down to the end of the bed and jumped out, darting around the other beds and into the bathroom. She hurriedly threw off her soaking wet pyjamas and cuddled a nearby robe around herself, noting with glee that it was Angelina’s fluffy purple robe.

She stuck her head back into the dorm, wet hair dripping onto the carpet, “Oh, Fred and George _made you_ , did they? They gave you that bucket and charmed your hands to slip and pour it all over me while I slept?” Laurel was answered by another snort. “You people should be ashamed of yourselves.” Laurel muttered to herself as she snuggled her face into the soft fabric of the robe.

“Oh, man! You got my robe all wet, now I’ll have to stick to a towel, like a _peasant_!” Angelina bounded into the bathroom, jokingly throwing a hand across her forehead and pouting.

Laurel shot her a grin, “Serves you right!” Angelina scoffed and shared a genuine smile with her friend.

“That was a pretty good one, though.” Angelina praised herself, Laurel hummed indeterminately.

“Easy for you to say.” She sulked, wringing her hair out over her shoulder, the water splashed across the tile floor and speckled her feet, her eyes suddenly widened at seeing Angelina dressed in her uniform and ready for class, “Wait, what time is it?”

“Quarter to nine!” Angelina smiled wide enough to show almost all of her teeth.

“Ah, crap.” Laurel grumbled, “Why didn’t you wake me?” She smacked a hand wildly in Angelina’s general direction as she scrambled back into the dorm. Angelina’s laughter followed her as she knelt down by her trunk and rummaged around, surfacing her uniform with a victorious exclamation, “Yes!” 

Laurel hurriedly dressed and rushed out of the room, close on Angelina’s heels. As they exited Gryffindor tower and made their way through the twisting halls of Hogwarts, Laurel could see the twins and Lee walked ahead of them, not rushing at all. Her eyes narrowed. With a wild grab for Angelina’s hand, Laurel tugged her forward and ran to catch up with their friends.

“Argh!” Fred and George cried out in unison as she jumped between them, throwing an arm around each and pulling them down with all of her weight. 

“Did you put dear Angelina up to my wake-up shower this morning?” Laurel narrowed her eyes as she looked between the two.

“Psh, how dare you?” Fred shrugged off her arm and pouted mockingly, Laurel just gave him an unimpressed stare in return. 

“Yes, whatever do you mean by ‘wake up shower?’” George widened his eyes innocently. A snort sounded from behind them and Laurel shot an amused glance at Angelina, then turned back to Fred and George.

She fell back a few steps and walked in line with Angelina as they walked towards Transfiguration, lamenting, “I don’t know why I put up with those two.”

“Because school life would be terribly boring without them?” Angelina grinned at Laurel, nudging her in the side with a bony elbow.

Laurel just scoffed and entered the Transfiguration classroom after the twins. She fell into her seat with a sigh, shoving her backpack under the table after retrieving her disparagingly heavy Transfiguration textbook. The book fell open with a thud, landing on a page of tiny writing that changed in font and colour every few seconds: the title of the page declared it as the _Simple Art of Transfiguring the Written Word_. Bright, neon pink letters flashed across the page and Laurel smiled down at them fondly.

“Turn to page four hundred and seventy three!” McGonagall’s severe voice rang out, Laurel slid her finger between the pages of her textbook and flipped to the designated section. With an internal groan, she read that they were studying the _Theory Behind Incantations_. 

“Laurel, psst!” A hissing whisper sounded from the table beside hers, she rolled her eyes over to see Fred staring at her with wide eyes, peering around Lee who sat between them. She leaned closer with expectant eyes.

“Yes?” 

Fred glanced up at Lee from where his head was ducked near the table, then slid across the table to come closer, “What were you doing in an abandoned corridor on the seventh floor last night after curfew?” 

Laurel’s eyes widened in panic, then they narrowed in suspicion, “How the heck do you know where I was?” She leaned her head closer to his, “Are you stalking me?”

“What?! No.” Fred sulked, “I just...” He trailed off and his gaze drifted thoughtfully to the side, “Me’n George’ll tell you later.” Fred nodded certainly, Laurel’s eyes remained narrowed, suspicion not assuaged in the least.

“Miss Potter, Mr Weasley? If you would?” McGonagall interrupted her lecture to gaze at them through her spectacles, Laurel froze and sat properly back in her chair, shooting McGonagall an innocent smile. Their professor just sighed and continued her teachings, Laurel sank back in her chair with a relieved sigh. Laurel shot a wary glance between Fred and George, wondering just what Fred was on about.


	7. Vestīgia

****

**

Laurel: A Very Long and Very Unusual Second Life

Part Three: Astra Inclinant [The Stars Incline Us]

Chapter Six: Vestīgia [Footprints]

**

**6 February 1991. 4:36pm**

Rushing into the Gryffindor common room, Laurel immediately spotted Fred, George and Lee colluding in the corner furthest from her. After a steady moment to calm her breath, Laurel resumed her fast pace and fell into the seat beside Fred. Across from them, George gave Lee an unforgiving shove with his elbow and nodded suspiciously to his twin brother. Lee rolled his eyes and left with a huff, Laurel stared after him then turned to the twins with narrowed eyes.

“What was that about?” She asked with suspicion.

George smiled widely, “Original members only for this conversation!”

Laurel stared at him in disbelief, before stating frankly, “George, that’s horrible.”

“Well, he’s gone now...we’ll fill him in later!” Fred poked her on the cheek, she wrinkled her nose and slapped the hand away.

“Whatever,” Laurel sighed, then she slid out of the booth and gestured for Fred to do the same. He did so with some confusion, then Laurel manoeuvred him into the seat beside his brother, and sat back in the seat opposite them.

At their identical look of confusion, she explained, “Wouldn’t do for the interrogator to collude with the accused, now, would it?” The twins turned sheepish, interrupting their protests against the label, “You’ve been stalking me, now explain how and why.” Laurel looked at them expectantly, both Fred and George flushed a stark red.

“Okay, quit it with the ‘stalker’ stuff—”

“It’s not as creepy as all that!” They argued, Laurel continued to stare at them with her eyebrows raised in expectation. Fred huffed in annoyance, then bent down to rifle around in his backpack. When he placed an old, yellowed piece of parchment on the table, Laurel had her moment of epiphany.

“Oh, that makes sense!” Laurel smiled wide, reaching forward and bringing the parchment closer. It was completely blank, but Laurel knew that it must be the _Marauder’s Map_.

“Hang on, you know about the Map?” George exclaimed, Laurel looked up, eyes wide at having been caught. 

She backtracked, “What map? I was...being facetious, why have you put an old bit of parchment in front of me and called it a proper explanation?” Laurel narrowed her eyes at them to emphasise her point, suppressing an amused smile at her poor attempt at a diversion.

“Oh...” They nodded thoughtfully, Laurel sighed in relief that they accepted it as fact, “Well...it’s not a bit of old parchment, it’s a map!” Both Fred and George looked at her with wide eyes and wide smiles, but they soon dissipated as she did not react as if that was the most exciting news since the Weird Sisters announced their tour of ’89.

“Okay, it’s a map...how?” Laurel turned over the parchment and studied its imperfections; one would have to know that it was important to not dismiss it on first sight.

“You have to say an incantation!” George said obviously.

“Go on, then.” Laurel put the Map down and pushed it towards them.

George took out his wand and rested it against the centre of the parchment after looking around to check that no one in the room was paying them any attention, clearing his throat dramatically, he proclaimed, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!”

Spidery black lines of ink began to spread from where the tip of George’s wand touched the parchment, Laurel looked on in wonder as the skeleton of the Hogwarts Castle established itself on the previously blank surface. Her eyes widened as her fingers reached forward to trace lightly along the spreading lines.

“There’s the proper wonder!” Fred beamed at her, “Brilliant, isn’t it?”

“Is this...Hogwarts?” Laurel edged her fingers under the creases and flicked the map open, her eyes flicked between the rooms, they quickly found Gryffindor Tower. Leaning forward, she saw three sets of inky black footprints huddled in a corner on the parchment: her, Fred and George’s names idled near them, “Is that us?”

“Yep!”

“Shows everyone in Hogwarts all the time!”

“This is amazing,” Laurel smiled widely at them, their excitement being infectious, “Where did you find this?”

They both looked suddenly sheepish, sharing a glance, then Fred spoke, “Well, we got it from Filch’s office last year.”

“Y’know, for that prank with the gnome in Dumbledore’s...?” George added. Laurel snorted at the memory, she nodded her head.

“So, you stole it?” Before Fred and George began their protests, she continued, “From Filch, I suppose that’s acceptable.” Another snort.

They fell into silence, Laurel still studying the map. Peering closely, she noticed the tiny footsteps of Dumbledore pacing in his office. Gaze dropping, the four small paw prints of Mrs Norris the cat leapt across the page following an even smaller set of paw prints of something called ‘Dave,’ which looked to be a rodent or other small animal of some sort.

Laurel broke the quiet, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the weird stalking.” She slightly narrowed her eyes up at them. They turned sheepish once more.

“We’re sorry.” They said in unison, eyes wide with apology. Laurel looked between the two for a long moment, before deciding that perhaps they were genuinely apologetic.

“Fine.” She relented.

After a moment of cheer, they started forward again, Fred started “Why were you in the seventh floor corridor—” 

“The abandoned one?” George added.

“No reason to be, really—”

“And...your footsteps disappeared on the map!” George exclaimed.

Fred widened his eyes dramatically, “The map’s never been wrong before!”

Laurel huffed at their questions, “What’s with the barrage? Don’t think I can’t retract that apology, you two. I’m entitled to my own secrets!” At their continuing to stare at her expectantly, “I’ll tell you one day, maybe.” She relented, they continued to stare, “C’mon!”

“Ugh, fine.” Fred groaned, pouting and brandishing his wand, “Mischief managed!” He tapped the parchment and the spidery lines retreated until the parchment was blank once more.

**10 March 1991. 2:14pm**

It had taken a month, but Laurel had done it; she had found Ravenclaw’s lost diadem. Amongst the many stacks of dusted, undisturbed furniture, the diadem had been placed on top of a puke-green cabinet. If Laurel had not been searching for many a night for this diadem, she could surely have overlooked it. The gold of the setting was discoloured, only the brilliant green gem set in the centre shone anymore. Narrowing her eyes and looking closer, Laurel could see intricate engravings on the twining metal that she recognised as Latin. 

With fingers pale white and trembling, Laurel reached out for the diadem, lifting it from its home of some half a century. Dust mites clung to the metal and she swiped them off absent-mindedly, holding the metal tightly in front of her. Waiting for a moment, Laurel braced herself for the feeling of being so near a dark magical object. 

Just as she had decided that the dark feeling would not come and she was loosening her tense muscles, a wave of pure hate and fear rushed over Laurel. A gasp escaped her and echoed loudly in the tall chamber, cutting itself short on the piles of lost things. Her skin pimpled with goosebumps and the hairs on her arm raised. With a shiver, Laurel set the diadem back down, her fingers lingered on the metal as if fused to it. The dark feeling did not pass. It felt as though she had sunken into the Black Lake, as if icy cold water was rushing over her skin and seeping into her veins, filling her entire body with a shiver. 

Gulping, she slipped her fingers from the diadem and the icy water rushed back out. Laurel sighed in relief, she was cold and the fear remained a threat in her mind, but the worst had left as she broke contact with the diadem. She glared down at the offending object, knowing that she would have to feel that once more, that she would have to take the diadem and keep it safe from anyone who would interfere until she knew how to destroy it.

Laurel’s fingers shook greater than they had before as she reached out once more, with a sharp inhale her fingers closed around the cold metal. There was a rushing sound in her ears as her heart pumped faster and she shivered as the cold fear filled her once more. Shaking her head as if to dislodge the sound, she gripped tightly around the diadem and started down the row she had come down. 

The walk back seemed to last a lifetime, her sharp breaths were loud in the room and she paced quickly through the maze of towering piles that she had come to know well in the month she had spent among them. Closing her eyes, Laurel let her feet take her around twisting corners and she soon found herself near the entrance. Opening her eyes, Laurel saw the elaborate, metal doors towering high above her, just a few dozen steps away. 

As she took her first step, a harsh gust of wind blew over her neck, her hand came up to grasp it. Looking behind her, the room was as still as it had ever been. Another gust, but with her hand there she knew that it was not from wind. The cold fear continued to rise and rise, she felt twining fingers and nails and knives scraping softly against her skin, tormenting her. With a cry, she loosened her fingers and let the diadem drop. It fell against the stone floor with a metallic clatter, and the feelings lessened, her scrunched features relaxed and she breathed a sigh of relief.

Narrowing her eyes, Laurel glared at the diadem that sat so innocently by the broken egg shells. It certainly felt like a piece of a dark lord’s soul was in it, Laurel was not eager to pick it up again. But she had to, she just had to. Quickly, Laurel scrambled to pick it up and cringed at the rush of fear and hatred, she sprinted the few steps to the doors and eased out of them.

With a shudder, Laurel navigated the abandoned corridor leading to the Room of Requirement, then breathed a sigh of relief as she re-entered civilisation, shoving the diadem under her jumper. The yelling and general mischief that filled the air around her helped to muffle the darkness emanating from the diadem, she sidled through the bustling crowds of students that was common on a Sunday, soon finding herself in front of the Fat Lady.

“Password?”

“ _Veni, vidi, dormivi_.” Laurel bustled through the portrait, who hummed and hawed at her impatient tone.

“Laurel!” A body slammed into hers and she huffed as the metal of the diadem bit into her skin, it was one of the twins.

She ducked out of their arms, “Not now, Fred!” Laurel sprinted for the winding staircase to the girl’s dormitory.

“I’m George.” He pouted from where she had left him, shivering at the uneasy feeling that had washed over him.

Laurel paid him no mind and entered her dorm, landing on her knees in front of her trunk. Clicking open the latches, she opened the trunk and fished the diadem out from under her jumper, promptly stuffing it in the trunk under a pile of socks and underpants. She let go of the trunk’s lid and it fell shut with a thump, Laurel leant back and collapsed onto the floor. With a smile, she noted the dark feeling eked from her body and she only felt the warm sun on her face from the open window and a sense of absolute relief. 

“Let’s never do that again.” She mumbled to herself as she clambered onto her soft bed, curling up by her pillow, _never mind that there’re about five more horcruxes to collect, one of them being my own brother_. Laurel groaned into her pillow at the thought.


	8. Conditiō

**Laurel: A Very Long and Very Unusual Second Life**

**Part Three: Astra Inclinant [The Stars Incline Us]**

**Chapter Seven: Conditiō [Condition]**

**11 March 1991. 1:29pm**

Laurel was floating on a cloud, her arms spread out wide and her fingers wiggled through the crisply cold condensation. Logically, she knew that clouds were not solid enough for floating on, but logic did not matter to Laurel in this moment. Her eyes blinked open and she saw an expanse of clear blue, the blue turning brighter as it melded with the golden glow of the sun high in the sky.

A wisp of darkness shot across the sky like a meteor, Laurel furrowed her brow at the unease that disrupted her perfect happiness. The darkness faded away and the uneasiness faded with it, her face smoothed over and she closed her eyes, basking in the warm feeling that rose within her. Laurel breathed in the crisp and clean air deeply, exhaling slowly. A shadow fell over her closed eyes and she opened them, the darkness was back. Three trailing tails were spread over the sky, overtaking the blue. Black shadows eked over the sky and the tails turned to waves of darkness, enveloping the sky and blocking the sunlight.

Everything turned black, Laurel was still floating. A gasp escaped from her, it echoed back sharply and she winced as it reverberated and pierced her ears with its loudness. Laurel shivered, she noticed that she was cold. It was a recognisable cold, the same that she had felt when touching the diadem. Hatred and fear bubbled up within her, a whimper caught in her throat as she tried to move but found herself unable. It felt as though she was tangled in vines, they did not give way as she tugged and tugged. _Just a dream_ , Laurel told herself, trying to calm. But the fear rose steadily until she thought she would burst from the feeling.

Laurel closed her eyes—it was just as dark—and concentrated. She did not know exactly on what she was concentrating, but her brow furrowed and she gasped as her eyes flung open. They immediately narrowed once more as a harsh light fell over them. Laurel sighed in relief as she saw the familiar maroon velvet curtains of her four poster bed, they were pulled open to allow the stream of sunlight to enter from the nearby window.

With a groan, Laurel rubbed her eyes, feeling as though she had aged at least two decades. _As though I was my actual age_ , she grimaced, then banished the thought with a shake of her head. Her fingers tangled in messy dark hair, she brushed it from her face and sat up, kicking the heavy duvet off with sharp movements, wishing to be free of it.

One hand reached blindly for the wand she had kept on the bedside table, finding it promptly and bringing it before her sleepily blinking eyes. With a yawn, Laurel mumbled as she tapped her wand against some unseen obstacle in the air, “ _Hora_ _ostendēre_.” Red, glowing script scrawled before her, _1337_.

Laurel glared at the numbers, whipping her wand through them to make them wisp away, then fell back onto her pillow with a groan. It was Monday and she was late for her classes—very late. With another low groan, Laurel buried her face back into her pillow and decided that she was past the point of no return. A small smile drifted across her face as she settled in. Her smile cracked and shuttered away as the door to the dorms burst open.

“Oh, thank Merlin.” Laurel lifted her head to see Angelina staring at her with clear exasperation, “We thought you were dead! Haven’t missed a single day and now you’re sleeping in while we’re covering _exam content_...” Angelina trailed off into a cranky mumble, Laurel smiled innocently up at her friend.

“I had a rough night,” Laurel said simply, eyes wide. Angelina’s eyes narrowed and she examined Laurel up and down, finally deciding with a firm nod that she was telling the truth.

“I have your assignments.” The bed dipped near Laurel’s hip as Angelina dropped a stack of paper and books next to her, “Good luck doing those blind.” Angelina shot her a grin and reached up to ruffle her hair teasingly, Laurel cringed away but was not quick enough.

A voice echoed through the open door of the dorm, “Oi, Angie? She’s not dead, then?” Laurel recognised it as one of the twins and giggled with Angelina.

“No, she is! Just havin’ a chat with her ghost, Weasley!” Angelina called back sarcastically.

There was a pause, “Alright then, have fun.” Laurel and Angelina dissolved into another fit of giggles.

Once they had calmed, Angelina sat at the foot of Laurel’s bed, and Laurel sat up with annoyed huff at the inevitable lecture she was about to receive.

“You alright, Laurel?” Angelina seemed genuinely worried, and Laurel managed a smile.

“Yeah,” She said, the word catching slightly in her throat, “Just needed a day.” Angelina scrutinised her for a moment longer, then stood from the bed.

“Well, if you need me, just ask.” Angelina shot her a final grin then dashed towards the door, “Gotta head to transfiguration, McGonagall only let Fred and me out to check on you!”

With a tired huff, Laurel snuggled back into her bed covers, wincing as she heard the thud of her homework landing on the floor by her bed. Laurel shrugged and snuggled deeper, eyes lighting up as her cat Luke sidled into the room and jumped up to cuddle by her legs. The tiny form of his own companion Leia was settling down near the nape of his neck, small metal head resting on his collar and clinking lightly against his tags that had twisted around.

Suddenly feeling awake, Laurel shot a hand out to her bedside table and clutched a piece of parchment. Smiling wide, Laurel examined the chicken scratch—written with a Muggle pen—of her brother. Ever since she had arrived at Hogwarts, Harry never failed to write her a letter at least once a week, and Laurel had never failed to return them:

_Laur,_

_Remus and me went to Diagon Alley yesterday and I almost managed to get a dog! It was this real scruffy black dog sitting in the window at Magical Menagerie, he had this black eyes like sad pools of ink. Remus seemed just as sad as he was, don’t know why...I thought he didn’t like animals that much. Anyway, some other family picked him up before we could...so at least he ended up happy!_

Laurel grimaced at Harry’s description of the dog, he sounded a lot like Padfoot. A feeling of immense guilt rose up in her but she gulped and suppressed it down for another time, continuing on:

_We went to the Leaky Cauldron for a couple of Butterbeers instead, the man there seemed really chuffed to have me there—another one of those wizards who stare at my scar the whole time they’re in front of me, I messed my hair over my forehead and he seemed to get the hint. Speaking of my scar, it was really aching this morning. Remus said that it should be fine as long as it didn’t hurt too much. Did you end up finding that hat you lost? I mean, you seemed really worried about it in your last letter. I’ve never been that fond of a hat, but I guess we’re different like that._

She cracked a smile, glancing sideways at her trunk in which the diadem lay buried under her underpants—the diadem had been worrying her so much that Laurel had told Harry she was looking for her hat in the hope of some encouragement. Rereading the words, Laurel huffed a laugh at what Harry considered encouragement:

_If you don’t find it, Remus’ll probably buy you another—if you’re really that cut up about it. How’s Luke and Leia? Luke’s a mean cat, but I thought I’d ask cause you seem to like him. Remus just told me I shouldn’t’ve said that last part, but I think we can be honest with each other, he’s a mean cat._

The last words were underlined, Laurel snorted a laugh and looked at Luke. He was glaring at her with his wide blue eyes, as if he could sense blasphemous thoughts about himself. Laurel read on:

_Anyway, I hope you have fun at Hogwarts—but not too much fun, wait till I get there for that._

_Love, Harry_

_P.S. Remus told me to tell you that he loves you too and he’s still waiting for a reply for his last letter (he’s glaring but I think it’s the joke kind of glare)._

Laurel let the letter fall from her grasp and flutter onto the bed beside her. One thing stuck out most of all—Harry had said his scar had hurt. Laurel knew that whenever Harry’s scar had hurt, it had something to do with Voldemort. She glanced back over at her trunk where the diadem was, she was almost certain that it was the culprit. With absolutely no way as of yet to destroy the diadem, Laurel decided that she must let it be, if only for the sake of her brother. She thought that maybe that horrid feeling that had overtaken her was the piece of Voldemort’s soul that lay dormant within stirring and beginning to arise. Casting the thought of the horcrux from her mind, Laurel snuggled back under her covers and tried to ignore the rising feeling of anxiety.

**18 May 1991. 10:06am**

A low whistling filled the air as a tiny contraption began to spin and twist on Dumbledore’s desk. One could always rely on the interesting devices strewn about the Headmaster’s office to delay any unwanted interactions. Laurel’s gaze drifted over to Dumbledore where he sat waiting patiently for her to answer him, blue eyes twinkling as they always seemed to do.

“Why have you arranged this meeting, Miss Potter?” Dumbledore repeated himself, Laurel sat back in the chair and decided to do away with any pretence.

“I’ve come with an offer,” Laurel said bluntly, not waiting for him to reply before speaking again, “I have something you want, and you can do something for me...two somethings, actually.” Dumbledore narrowed his eyes fractionally, seeming both suspicious and worried—whether it was for her or of her, Laurel did not know.

“Please elaborate.”

“You’ve known for some time that I have some...seer abilities,” Laurel grimaced, thinking it a weak explanation, but it was the only one she had, “Well, I have _foreseen_ something. I did a long time ago. Do you remember when I came here almost eight years ago, in the middle of the night? You found me and Professor McGonagall in the halls? Well, I told Professor McGonagall not to tell you, but...”

Dumbledore leaned forward and urged her on with a slight wave of his hand, she took a deep breath.

“I was chasing Peter Pettigrew,” She breathed the words out, wide eyes pleading for him to believe her.

Dumbledore stated the obvious, “Peter Pettigrew died on the same night as your parents, he was killed by Sirius Black.”

“Well, he wasn’t. It wasn’t Sirius that was the Secret Keeper, it wasn’t Sirius that betrayed my parents. It was Pettigrew. They’re both animagi, Pettgrew transformed into a rat and escaped.” Dumbledore furrowed his brow, eyes lighting up in understanding at the last point.

“And you’ve seen this?” He supposed, Laurel nodded her head awkwardly.

“Sirius is innocent. And he’s been in Azkaban for almost a decade. I can’t live with myself letting this happen any longer. I want you to get him a trial, a proper trial—I know Crouch didn’t give him one. I’m sure he’d freely consent to Veritaserum.”

Dumbledore was quiet for what felt like the longest minute of Laurel’s life, he sat back in his chair and sighed heavily, “What was the second thing you required of me?”

“Well, it has to do with the thing I have for you,” Laurel said simply, Dumbledore urged her on, “I have one of Voldemort’s horcruxes, and I’m prepared to give it to you on the condition that you destroy it, as I can’t.” Dumbledore’s eyes widened exponentially and he blinked quickly a few times, gaze zipping around the room as if in search of some unspoken answer.

“He has horcr—I thought...well,” He choked out, “That does sound like something I’d want.”


	9. Culpă

**Laurel: A Very Long and Very Unusual Second Life**

**Part Three: Astra Inclinant [The Stars Incline Us]**

**Chapter Eight: Culpă [Guilt]**

**29 June 1991. 4:36pm**

Rumbling clouds of stormy grey were spread high across the sky, the heavy patter of rain against the window filled the compartment, unheard under the louder roar coming from inside. Fred and George had challenged Lee and Laurel to a game of Exploding Snap, and it was turning out to be of the most epic capacity. The students of Hogwarts were embarking on the long train ride back home after another year at school, filling the hours-long trip with any mindless pursuit—the more mindless the better after a year of cramming their heads with magical knowledge.

“I didn’t know your mother raised a quitter,” Laurel said innocently, getting identically outraged exclamations.

“Laurel—”

“We are dangerously close to losing our eyebrows—”

“I don’t know if we’ll look as handsome without them—”

“I’d rather forfeit the game then my precious ginger caterpillars!” Fred stroked his eyebrows lovingly, Lee and Laurel snorted in response—the card deck remained unexploded on the floor in front of them.

“Fine, more chocolate frogs for us...” Laurel grinned at Lee, they pulled their bounty towards them and began to divide it evenly.

“Aw, c’mon!” The twins whined, looking at their friends with wide, pleading eyes. After some debate, Laurel and Lee decided to give in to the spirit of the season—the Summer holidays—and slid some of the chocolate back towards the twins who pounced on it with wide grins.

There was a low rolling sound and all four sets of eyes turned to look at their compartment door which had just been opened, a voice grouched from the doorway, “Train stopped five minutes ago, out!”

With guilty grimaces, they realised that the train was indeed stationary, and Platform Nine and Three Quarters was loud and bustling outside the window. They hurriedly stuffed their chocolate frogs into their respective pockets and grabbed their trunks—and animal cage in Laurel’s case—rushing out past the grumpy conductor and off the train through the nearest door.

Laurel splashed onto the platform with a jump, following the two bobbing ginger-haired heads in front of her, throwing a smile and a wave back towards Lee who had already spotted his parents. After much pushing and shoving and running over careless toes with her trunk, Laurel came to a stop behind Fred and George. She peeked around Fred’s shoulder and her eyes brightened as she saw Remus and Harry, the Weasleys standing beside them.

“Moony! Harry!” Laurel squeaked excitedly, dropping her trunk and edging around Fred to collide with her brother, squeezing him tightly until he groaned.

“You’re late.” Remus grinned down at her, squeezing him to her in a quick hug then ruffling her hair.

After a subsequent wrinkling of her nose and the diversion of a hand to straighten her hair back out, Laurel returned the hug and explained, “Intensive game of Exploding Snap, only finished so early ‘cause Fred and George gave up.”

“Oi! We did not give up—”

“We totally knew the train had stopped, so we gracefully bowed out!” The twins called over to her, she shot them a disbelieving look, then returned back to her family.

After a few minutes of reunion, the group managed to meander off to the side towards the row of fireplaces decorating the wall, a crowd was gathered around them and emerald puffs of smoke periodically dispersed into the air. One disparagingly long wait later, the Weasleys, Laurel, Harry and Remus had all Flooed to the Burrow, where they were to spend the evening having dinner and spending Molly-Weasley-mandated time together as a family.

“Mum, the knives started duelling again,” Ron called over to them as they piled one-by-one out of the fireplace, Laurel spied Ron, Ginny and Bill Weasley hiding behind the nearby couch, the latter with his wand out trying fruitlessly to stop the duel. In front of them, a pair of knives were clattering against each other, one seemed to be slowing due to a nasty scratch along its side—another four knives were hovering excitedly in the air as spectators. With a disappointed huff, Molly Weasley snapped her wand at the knives and they unceremoniously froze in place, another snap and they darted over to the counter where a pile of half-peeled potatoes lay.

“Arthur, really? Have you been experimenting with my kitchen knives again?” Molly narrowed her eyes at her husband, who seemed guilty.

“Uh, all in, kids.” Arthur ushered them all into the lounge room, Remus trying to protest his being called a kid but was ultimately silenced by Arthur’s pointed look towards Molly—the threat of Molly Weasley’s wrath loomed overhead as Arthur was ordered in to face the music.

Harry bounded over to Ron and Ginny, sitting between them on the couch the latter two had previously been hiding behind, they began to chat away while Laurel was relegated to a cushy armchair opposite, feeling somewhat abandoned by her little brother. Laurel was not left to wallow for long, as Fred squeezed into the armchair next to her, and George lay comfortably on a pillow in the middle of the floor.

“Ugh,” Laurel grimaced as Fred poked at her ear, slapping his hand away, “Just finished school and I still can’t be rid of you,” She glared at him, though her glare soon turned to a smirk as he began to look mockingly saddened.

“How was your last year, then, Charlie?” Bill suddenly asked, all eyes turned to the aforementioned Weasley, Charlie’s eyes widened as he was put on the spot.

“It was...”

“Terrible!” George cried from the floor.

Fred continued on, “Now I can finally begin my love affair with dragons!” The twins both cackled with amusement, the rest of the gathering laughed along with them, though with considerably more restraint. Charlie rolled his eyes good-naturedly and his face became tinged a light red, hiding his abundant freckles.

“It was great,” Charlie said louder than the laughs, “I can’t say I’ll miss school with those two.”

“Glad I never had to deal with that,” Bill said honestly, he had finished at Hogwarts just before the twins began, Fred and George glared while everyone else laughed at their expense.

Off to the side, a clearing throat made them all quieten and stare, Arthur had returned. His cheeks were a ruddy red that matched his hair, “Dinner’s delayed an hour...” There was a disappointed uproar, Arthur held up his hands, “No one’s going to starve, calm down!” He said firmly, ending on a fond chuckle.

After an hour of foretold hunger, a half hour of frenzied, and an hour of sated, friendly conversation, Laurel was to be found sitting curled up on the couch next to her godfather, the fireplace lit nearby with warm, crackling flames.

Deciding to breach the subject with bluntness, Laurel abruptly broke the silence between the two, “I’ve sorted everything out with Sirius.” Remus stirred, looking down at her with furrowed brow.

“What, Sirius? What?” He seemed exceedingly confused, Laurel stretched out her legs towards the fire, wiggling her toes at the warmth.

“Mhmm, Dumbledore told me just before we left. He’s arranged with the new Minster for Magic, Fudge, for a trial. Not public knowledge yet, but I reckon there’ll be quite the uproar,” Laurel said with a pleased smile, Remus remained confused.

“What, a trial?”

Laurel narrowed her eyes up at Remus, “Yes...a trial? ‘Cause he didn’t get one. Obviously. Else he’d be here with us now.”

“What, why?” Remus looked worried, “Why now?”

“Dumbledore needed some incentive...to get things going.”

“Incentive,” Remus said shortly, sitting up straight and forcing Laurel to meet his gaze, his hand froze posed in the air in front of him, “You...blackmailed Dumbledore into getting a trial for...the man who be—who helped to—”

“Whoa, whoa, what?” Laurel stared up in disbelief, “You think that Sirius is guilty? Still?”

“What, of course! How else could—?” Remus cut himself off, looking down with a huff.

Laurel stood from the comfortable couch, the heat from the fire was unforgiving on her back, a feeling of disappointment rose steadily within her, “He’s not,” She said with complete certainty, “And it wasn’t blackmail...this was the only way I could have done this...Sirius shouldn’t have to rot in what is _almost literally_ hell because of my incompetence. Of course I’ll do anything to get him out.” With an angered huff, Laurel left Remus sitting alone in the living room of the Burrow.

**12 July 1991. 10:13am**

It had been a week since leaving her second year at Hogwarts, since she had informed Remus of the situation with Sirius, and his resolve remained strong. Remus Lupin believed Sirius to be guilty of betraying her parents to Voldemort. Laurel allowed that Remus did have some cause to not believe that the secret keeper had been changed on that night, but she still thought her godfather should have a little faith in her.

Behind her, she could vaguely her brother chattering on about some adventure he and Ron had undertaken while Laurel at Hogwarts, Laurel shook her head and brought herself to the present, focusing on Harry.

“And then the spider scurried in his direction, he flipped out and screamed! Ran all the way back to where his mum was in the garden.” Harry looked at her expectantly, she dutifully chuckled at his story, feeling immensely guilty that she had not paid more attention, even though Harry had told her the story at least a handful of times already.

Laurel patted the covers of the bed next to her and waited for Harry to land in place, throwing an arm around him, “So, how are you feeling about the trial?” She asked with some amount of trepidation; Sirius’ trial had been announced publically and was to take place in approximately a fortnight’s time.

“Uh, whose side are we on again?” Harry asked with a sheepish grin.

“Whosever y’want to be on, Harry,” Laurel said with exasperation, tousling Harry’s already wild hair.

“Whose side are you on, then?”

Laurel sighed, “Sirius didn’t betray our parents,” She said surely.

“Did you... _see_ it?” Harry quirked his brow in her direction, she snorted.

“Yes...but I also remember Sirius. He’d never do anything like they said he did.” Laurel sighed tiredly.

“But then, why does Remus think he did?” Harry asked with hesitation.

“I couldn’t tell you...maybe...it was a difficult time for him, he lost three of his best friends. Now I’m suddenly saying things happened differently after a decade,” Laurel furrowed her brow, “I don’t blame him.”

The two sat in thoughtful silence for a moment, Laurel felt a tickle on her toes, then looked down to see that Luke had curled up by her feet, his tail swiping over them every now and then. Harry bent down and plucked Leia from where she was nestled under Luke’s chin, stroking a finger down her silver back, her leathery wings beat once as her tiny tongue lolled out at the feeling with a click against her maw.

“Well, he’ll believe after the trial, hopefully.” Harry looked up at her, she nodded back distractedly, gaze focused on the tiny thestral figuring lounging in his hands.

“Hopefully,” Laurel echoed, squeezing her brother tightly to her once more, then bounding up and off the bed, “Enough with this serious conversation, wanna go down the street to Pete’s?”

A wide grin spread over Harry’s face and he nodded excitedly, wild hair waving in the air with the movement. Laurel directed him past her with an arm flung out ahead of them, both shoved their feet into their respective shoes—both pairs left carelessly by the front door where they had been kicked off.

A few minutes later, Laurel and Harry had bounded down the street and were sitting in a table by the window, each with a sizeable ice-cream cone in hand—strawberry for Harry, mint choc-chip for Laurel. They chattered away with wide grins, both with smudges of ice cream around their lips, Laurel felt as though she had to savour this moment before the chaos of Sirius’ trial that would surely hit soon. She snorted at Harry who had a dollop of pink on his nose, he grinned back, and she felt glad that she had him with her to weather the storm.


	10. Iūdicium

**Laurel: A Very Long and Very Unusual Second Life**

**Part Three: Astra Inclinant [The Stars Incline Us]**

**Chapter Nine:** **Iūdicium [Judgement]**

**27 July 1991. 5:02pm**

A single scuff mark stood out on the toe of her black, leather shoes as they tried to shine valiantly, it gave Laurel a sense of unease to see such a mar on an otherwise perfectly fine pair of shoes. Her gaze drifted to the side, where a second pair of shoes were swinging through the air—not of their own accord, they were attached to the similarly swinging feet of her brother, Harry—not a scuff in sight. Internally scolding herself for focusing on such a trivial thought, Laurel turned her attention back to the reason they were here.

The long-awaited trial of Sirius Black had been underway for approximately eight hours already, Laurel and Harry had been left under Molly Weasley’s care for the day and had been instructed to wait in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic Headquarters until their adoptive father returned at the end of the trial. Which, if the watch on the witch passing by was correct and uninhibited by the magic pervading the air, should have been two minutes previously.

Now, a cool-headed Laurel would have realised that perhaps it took longer than a literal instant to journey from the court rooms to the Atrium, but that Laurel was not in attendance. Instead, in her place, was a nerve-wracked Laurel who, despite knowing full well that Sirius was innocent, was worried that her plan would fall to ruin and Sirius would be left to return back to Azkaban.

In an attempt to distract herself, Laurel began to look around the vast hall. It was certainly intimidating; polished, dark-wood floor, great, sweeping columns and the grand centre-piece of the Atrium: a large fountain depicting a wizard, a witch, a centaur, a goblin and a house-elf as five shining, golden statues standing together. The fountain was intended as a monument to magical beings, but the witch and wizard stood tall as the lowly creatures looked on in adoration as if to remind the magical community who really ruled this nation. Laurel shivered at the thought, the low splashing of the jets of water causing a cold sensation to set deep into her veins.

“D’you reckon they’re out yet?” Harry suddenly asked from beside her, Laurel turned to see his brow furrowed in worry. Steeling herself, if only for his sake, Laurel threw an arm around her younger brother and drew him close to her side.

“Maybe. Maybe not,” she said vaguely, “Either way, everything’s a-okay.” Laurel felt as though her decidedly lax attempt at comforting her brother should be amended, but she was interrupted by the arrival of those they had been discussing.

“Laurel? Harry?” A quiet, gruff voice called from ahead of them, Laurel was looking at her brother and saw his eyes widen and face fall at seeing the owner of the voice, she followed his gaze and understood why there was a slight hint of fear slackening his features.

Sirius Black was standing by Remus, no chains in sight, but he still seemed a threatening picture. His hair was long and matted hanging loosely about his shoulders, his skin waxy and sallow, eyes sunken slightly and cheeks gaunt. Despite this, Laurel recognised the familiar shadow of mirth and love hiding in his sad and tired eyes as that of Sirius, best friend to her father and godfather to her brother. She forced her relieved and ecstatic smile wider to combat any pity that might cross her countenance and slid from the bench they had been relegated to, stepping forward to stand in front of Sirius.

“You...you’re older,” Sirius managed weakly, Laurel breathed in deeply, smile softening.

“Yeah, a bit,” she replied awkwardly, glancing to the side to gauge how Remus was faring, he seemed to be almost as pale as Sirius; in a state of shock at seeing his best friend in a different light than that which had  been cast by the Halloween night Laurel’s parents died. Deciding that Remus would give her no guidance in this moment, and that she had to act, to erase the sadness from Sirius’ eyes.

She heard a sharp intake of breath from somewhere above her as she stepped forward and fell into an embrace with Sirius, his arms curled reluctantly around her in a way that made Laurel all too aware that he had not been hugged for a decade. After a decidedly long and awkward moment, Laurel stepped back and let her arms fall to her side.

“Off free, then?” Laurel asked casually, Sirius’ lips tried to quirk into a smile but it fell flat.

“Yeah.”

Harry came up beside her, she saw Sirius stare listlessly at his godson who had been a baby the last time he had seen him, and likely did not remember anything of their bond or time together.

“Home?” Laurel prompted, kicking her foot back and toeing at the hardwood floors beneath her, shooting Remus a glance. She held a hand forward and pushed back his shoulder a bit, raising her brow at him when he met her gaze.

“Yeah, home,” Remus managed, scratching at the back of his neck and gesturing with his other hand toward the right-side of the Atrium where a haphazard congregation of wizards and witches were lining up to leave via the blazing green fireplaces dotting the wall. Laurel pursed her lips and purveyed their odd group with narrowed eyes, Remus, Sirius and Harry trundled over to where Remus had directed them. Sirius stared ahead with a blankly dumbfounded yet hopeful light in his eyes, while Remus and Harry periodically glanced at Sirius with both trepidation and a hope similar to Sirius’.

The line moved forward at a reasonable pace, they soon stood by the heatless, flickering fire, faces bathed in an eerie green light. Laurel took the lead and bodily moved Harry ahead of the rest, urging him to go first. He took a pinch of the offered Floo Powder, threw it in the flames and stepped into the fire, bringing his elbows close in and clearly said, “ _14b Duckett Road_.”

Harry disappeared in a swooping flash of green flames, Laurel unceremoniously pinched her own handful of Floo Powder and threw it into the flames. She was gone in a short, “ _14b Duckett Road_ ,” surrounded by the flashing of green and orange flames, passing many hearths until she arrived at that which she had proclaimed as her destination. Laurel stepped out of the fireplace and into the living room of her home, belatedly noticing with no small amount of guilt that her shoes had left two perfect imprints of ashy dust on the rug that laid at a haphazard tilt in front of the fire.

Deciding that the rug was beyond her help, Laurel shook her hair of the dust that had gathered there from the Floo, and fell against the nearby couch where she noticed Harry was sitting curled up around a fluffy, grass-green pillow. Moments later, a flare of green flames flashed in the corner of her eyes and then became muffled once more, Sirius left in its place.

Sirius stood blankly in the fireplace for a moment, before he seemed to realise that it probably was not the best idea to stand in a fireplace in which another person was going to travel through, and he stepped forward. Laurel was amused to see him have a similar revelation as she had, and guiltily scuff his tattered shoes against the poor rug. In a fourth and final flash of brilliant green, Remus stepped out of the fireplace and moved past Sirius, shrugging off his coat. At his prompting, Laurel and Harry shrugged off their own coats and passed them to his awaiting hands.

“Take-away okay?” Remus asked distractedly as he hung up their coats by the door, Harry shuffled around and peeked his eyes above the back of the couch, they were crinkled and hinted at his smile. Laurel smiled as he nodded up and down, his wild hair floating along and contributing to his aura of enthusiasm, “And you, Laur?”

“Sounds good...” Laurel glanced thoughtfully between Remus and Sirius, “I’ll take Harry down to the chippy! We’ll bring back dinner...” She bounded up and rounded the couch, snatching hers and Harry’s coats back from their hooks, gesturing to her brother with a nod of her head towards the door.

“Wh—but—?” Remus tried to protest, Laurel simply gave him a meaningful look with wide eyes, he furrowed his brow and sighed, opening the door for her and letting them rush out under his arm, “Very subtle,” she heard him mumble behind them.

Laurel, with Harry dawdling slower behind her pulled along by her hand on his arm, flew down the narrow staircase and swung open the door to the street. They were assaulted by the bustling noises of the city, cars honking their horns and obnoxious pedestrians honking back with their screaming insults. Laurel clamped her hand tighter around Harry’s arm and they set off down the street towards the elusive chip shop.

The cool night air brushed lightly against Laurel’s face, her countenance lightened as the events of the day drifted further to the back of her mind, she began to focus on the goodness of the day. Despite the long-term effects of Sirius’ imprisonment in Azkaban, he was free. The lapping waves of guilt were beginning to recede, or at least did not rise further from Laurel’s feelings toward Sirius.

A tiny bell tinkled as Laurel pushed open the door to the chip shop, they entered to a gush of warmth that filled them to their toes. After Laurel hurriedly ordered their food—grateful at the lack of a queue—she directed Harry to sit with her at a ramshackle table pushed into the corner of the shop.

“What’s with the rush?” Harry asked with wide eyes, jet-black hair hanging windswept about his ears. Laurel’s lips tugged up in an amused smile and she reached out a hand across the rickety table to ruffle his hair and arrange it into something resembling a neat hairstyle. He grimaced and pushed her hand away, then began arranging his hair himself with a pout.

“No rush,” Laurel maintained, nodding absent-mindedly in approval of Harry’s attempts to wrangle the beast on his head, “Just hungry, I suppose.”

“And why did I have to come with?”

Laurel raised her eyebrow and stared at her brother in disbelief, “To give Sirius and Remus a chance to catch up, doofus.” She nudged his shoulder with a poking finger, “They haven’t seen each other in, like, a decade, and Remus has thought that Sirius was a crazed murderer for all that time...I thought they might like a bit of time to gain some traction without a bunch of snot-nosed kids nipping at their ankles.” She shot her brother an amused smirk, he looked back with suspicion but seemed to accept her reasoning.

“I don’t nip at ankles,” Harry combatted after a moment, shaking his head and looking forlornly towards the counter through the window to the kitchen where the scent of freshly cooking chips was wafting through.

“Still...” Laurel trailed off, looking down at a fading once-bright-green glob of gum that had been stuck against the side of the table. She sighed and rested her elbows against the top of the table and it wobbled precariously.

“Here y’are,” a voice called from the shop counter, Laurel looked up to see the tired woman manning the shop holding out paper-wrapped parcel of chips in their general direction.

Accepting the parcel with a resounding, “Thank you,” Laurel and Harry exited the shop and made their way—at a slower, sluggish pace—back home.

“D’you think everything’s gonna be okay?” Harry suddenly said, scuffing his sneakers against the pavement, glancing up at his sister, “With Sirius, I mean. It’s for sure, he didn’t do it?”

The final word was loaded with meaning, an allusion to the event that changed both of their lives, the deaths of their parents. Laurel sighed heavily, hugging the warm parcel of chips closely to her chest and slinging an arm around Harry to bring him closer by her side.

“Yeah, don’t you worry...” Laurel said firmly, “Sirius is a good man, he would never do anything to hurt you or me.” Harry hummed in agreement, still managing to sound unsure. Laurel accepted his vague answer as the best she was going to get at that time, and focused on the short walk home, relishing in the time with her brother free of the burden of her duty to him and the rest of the Wizarding World.


	11. Epilogue: Pactus

**Laurel: A Very Long and Very Unusual Second Life**

**Part Three: Astra Inclinant [The Stars Incline Us]**

**Epilogue:** **Pactus [Agreed]**

**31 July 1991. 2:16pm**

Harry Potter’s eleventh birthday was quite an understated affair. Well, when Laurel compared it to the eleventh birthday he would have had otherwise, it was practically a grand affair. Rather than Harry laying under a moth-eaten blanket on the cold, hard ground of a hut on a rock in the middle of the sea with his crazed aunt, uncle and cousin, Harry was surrounded by his family—Laurel, Remus and Sirius—under a fluffy, yellow blanket snuggled on a couch with a similar consistency to that of a marshmallow, each with a mug of hot chocolate.

There was an atmosphere of love and warmth that pervaded the room and gave the effect of magic hanging in the air. Even Sirius, being recently released from his imprisonment in the closest equivalent of hell on Earth, had colour in his cheeks and the ghost of a smile on his face.

_The Goonies_ —a film of Harry’s choice—was playing on the small television sequestered in the corner, the picture faded and fuzzy from the interference of magic on the muggle technology. On screen, the gang was discovering the long lost ship and Laurel glanced towards her brother. Harry’s eyes were wide and his hands were gripping tightly to the blanket covering them, a corner of parchment paper stuck out from the pocket of his jumper; it was his Hogwarts letter. In about a month, Harry would be joining her at Hogwarts, and he had never been happier about a prospect in all of his life.

Laurel could imagine what he was thinking, that he would soon have adventures like the one playing out on the television. _Not if I have anything to say about it_ , Laurel thought with an amused smirk, a feeling of slight dread filling her as she imagined the efforts she would have to go to in keeping danger from Harry, the ultimate magnet for danger. It seemed to be an impossible endeavour, but it was one that Laurel was going to take on gladly.

As Mikey spoke of the legacy of “One-Eyed” Willy, the four watching the movie were startled by a knock at the door. Remus furrowed his brow and paused the VCR, then shuffled up to the front door and peeked through the peephole, his face fell and he shot an exasperated look back at Laurel, Harry and Sirius who stared back with wide, curious eyes. He turned the knob and the door swung open to reveal Albus Dumbledore standing outside, a sanguine smile decorating his face.

“Albus?” Remus asked, fishing for a reason why the Headmaster of Hogwarts was at their door.

“Remus. May I come in?” Albus did not give a reason, and also did not wait for an answer, stepping into the room, his bright purple robes swishing around him nonchalantly, “Harry, my dear. Happy birthday!” He said jubilantly, his blue twinkling.

Remus stepped forward, closing the door behind him with a furrowed brow, then spoke with confusion clouding his tone, “Why are you here?”

Dumbledore paused, glancing towards where Laurel and Harry were snuggled on the couch, then back to address Remus, “I’ve come to speak with Laurel.”

At first, Laurel felt confused as to why Dumbledore felt the need to come to her house and talk with her, but then she caught sight of Sirius, who was staring at Dumbledore as if he had seen a ghost—or, as if he was a muggle who had just seen a ghost. Laurel remembered her deal with Dumbledore, Sirius’ rightful freedom for Voldemort’s horcrux.

With a sheepish laugh, Laurel stood and approached Remus who still seemed confused, “You remember that thing I had to do...?” He still seemed confused, she twisted her mouth and her gaze dropped to the floor, she lowered her voice so that only Remus, and perhaps Dumbledore, could hear, “You called it _blackmail_?”

Remus’ eyes brightened with recognition, then immediately narrowed slightly as he huffed a disappointed sigh. Laurel was quick to defend herself, “Well, it all worked out well and good, didn’t it?” She nodded vaguely towards Sirius, “Now I have to hold up my end of the deal.” Laurel spared a glance for Dumbledore, whose eyes were twinkling as they often did, she grimaced and pulled Remus’ arm, “I’ve got this,” she huffed, pushing him towards Harry and Sirius.

Turning to Dumbledore, Laurel caught his gaze for a moment, he spoke, “Into the kitchen, then? For some privacy.” Nodding vaguely, Laurel waved her hand towards the slightly more secluded kitchen and followed Dumbledore there.

Sitting down at the small wooden table, Dumbledore flicked his wand that had seemingly come from nowhere and conjured a white and baby-blue, porcelain teapot, along with two matching teacups. A low plume of earthy-scented smoke rose steadily from the spout of the teapot as if it had been freshly boiled, and Dumbledore poured the tea into the cups, then edged one closer to Laurel who had remained standing.

Laurel clenched her jaw and stared disbelieving at Dumbledore, before sighing and joining him at the table, picking up the teacup and taking a sip. _It tastes nice,_ Laurel bitterly admitted to herself. She held the cup in front of her mouth and inhaled the fumes, taking another sip.

“I believe we had an arrangement, Miss Potter,” Dumbledore said simply, tilting his head forward in acknowledgement and taking a sip of his own cup.

Placing her cup abruptly on the table, flinching at the dull thud that she had not intended to create. Laurel sighed and drew her fingers across the tabletop, “I want to be sure you’ll destroy it, and not...study it or wear it, or do anything stupid.” She glanced down at his weathered right hand, envisioning it as blackened and withered as it would be if he wore the Gaunt ring, not trusting him to not make the same mistake.

“You don’t trust me,” Dumbledore said with certainty that Laurel wholly agreed with.

“I don’t,” Laurel spoke with a lightness that contradicted her heavy heart, “When school returns from summer break, I’ll bring you the horcrux and I’ll watch as you destroy it.”

“That is not what we agreed upon.” Dumbledore’s slight, genial smile was frozen on his face.

“We didn’t agree on any specifics,” Laurel countered with narrowed eyes. Dumbledore sighed heavily.

“And how do I know you will do as you say?”

Laurel narrowed her eyes further and looked at him with incredulity, “I want Voldemort dead as much as anyone, he killed my parents! He—” Laurel cut herself off with an angry huff, “He...deserves to die once and for all. And you’re going to help me...on my terms.”


End file.
